Which was especially a problem on Saturday, because Saturday night, we were joining Elizabeth and various other friends for a dinner at a nice restaurant to celebrate her birthday. (Happy birthday, Elizabeth!) So I was trying to save up my points so I would have more options at dinner. Except I couldn't seem to stop eating all day.
I managed to control it enough that when we got to dinner, I didn't have to order the dry chicken breast and water, but I spent the whole day wrestling with myself and wondering what the hell was wrong with me. And then we got to dinner and though it was great to see everyone and it was fun to chat (when I was able)... all the other women were able to do the girl thing and not even finish their meals, while it was all I could do to not lick my plate and then start snitching bits from Alex's unfinished pasta. Again: what the hell is wrong with me?
(I know this is a gripe that more legitimately belongs over on the diet blog, except that it drove me crazy all weekend, so... sorry.)
So I was feeling like an utter pig (and sort of unsatisfied, foodwise, to boot) and when the kids and cat conspired to wake me up at 6:15 Sunday morning and keep me up, I was in the foulest of foul moods. I managed to avoid snarling at the kids, but only through intense self-awareness that my bad mood had nothing to do with them. I put off eating breakfast until nearly 10, afraid to start another day's cycle of uncontrollable eating.
Going to the grocery store, weirdly, helped. By the time I got home, I was hungry but willing to be hungry. (I'm on a diet, after all; I spend about 80% of my waking hours hungry. Most of the time, I'm able to just acknowledge it and move on.) Naturally, I guess, since there was nothing I actually wanted to reserve points for. Eventually, I had lunch, and when I felt myself getting antsy again in the afternoon, I decided it was time to get out of the house again.
So I left the kids with Matt and went to Target, ostensibly to shop for a baby shower gift, but after I'd picked out a bunch of cute outfits for the baby-to-be, I wandered through the adult clothing section. I forcibly resisted buying new shirts -- I just finished overhauling my short-sleeved wardrobe, and need to save up for my fall/winter clothes -- but did spot some pants I thought looked good, and I do need better-fitting pants. So I tried on about eight pairs, and wound up keeping three. (I still can't wear pants without elastic waists. Fitted waist pants always gap at the back and show off my undies. It's ridiculous. I can't be the only woman on the planet with a shelf in the back, can I? C'mon, designers -- three darts would take care of the problem!)
And then I walked past the shoe section about twelve times until I decided fine, I'd go ahead and buy the high-heeled demi-boots I saw a few weeks ago. Call it retail therapy for my bad mood. I almost bought a pair of high-heeled mary janes that actually made my ankles look less puffy, but decided that I needed to restrict my unnecessary shoe purchases to one pair at a time. Especially since I haven't worn heels on anything like a regular basis since high school. (Seriously. I even wore flats to my wedding.)I was feeling somewhat better by the time I got home -- whether it was the adorable baby clothes, or the frivolous shoes, or the outing itself, I don't know and don't much care.
So when the kids were in dire need of entertainment and Matt dug out the backyard pool, I grabbed my camera and had a blast taking pictures.
No comments:
Post a Comment