So Europe was fabulous! I did a lot of walking and hiking, but when I came home, I guess I must have felt deprived because I ate almost everything bad in sight. It wouldn't have been so bad if it hadn't lasted about four weeks of me doing that, but it did. Have I gone to the gym since? No. Could I be there right now? Yes. Am I going to go there now? Highly unlikely. Do I want to go tomorrow? Yes. Will I go? Remains to be seen. I will make a serious attempt to drag my ass in there.
A few days ago, I finally worked up the courage to hop on the scale. I had noticed that pants that had become loose while travelling were no longer so loose, but instead were starting to feel tight. So I finally sucked it up and hopped on the evil scale a few days ago and found myself at 155.6lbs. My blood pressure is good, not as good as it had been, but good nonetheless. What is the route of it all? Emotional eating. Eating feels good during the moment. It doesn't disappoint. The flavours and the feel of it, but it rarely ever feels good while I am doing it or afterwards. Change is needed in my life. I keep saying it, but so far no action. Change is possible. I've just got to get off my ass and make it happen.
