The Torture Device

I am hulking out. A friend told me she wanted to do a pseudo cleanse (eliminating sugar, alcohol and a few other excesses) for two weeks, and wanted to know if I would do it, too? I've been wanting to drop some stubborn pounds and have had a growing fear of developing diabetes like my parents before me. And with fear of packing on more pounds during the free-for-all that is the holiday season, I agreed to start the day after Halloween. We would text each other every day to keep each other honest and to help each other through times of weakness (Hello, bags of Halloween candy taunting me from the pantry).

I would like to say it's been fun, and easy, and my days have been full of rays of light and pure joy. I would be lying through my gritted teeth. I've smiled on the outside, if that counts for anything. But I have learned that my will-power is not wonderful. I have stayed mostly true to the plan, except for a beer after a 10k race, and two glasses of red wine while hanging at a friend's house. I lost 4.5 pounds and was so excited. Except here's the thing, the two weeks aren't over and in the past two days, I gained one of those pounds back! How can that be?

I am hulking out. The ugly beast of a scale is conspiring against me. If I am going to deprive myself of the treats, I want to see the results. I keep hearing that maybe it's muscle since I've been exercising, too. Humph. Did I really gain a half pound of muscle overnight? I'm not buying it. 

All this deprivation is supposed to encourage me to make better choices in the future. I remain optimistic that all this will result in weight loss and good health. My family just wants to know when I will be less grumpy. I am hoping I can make it until tomorrow without throwing the scale out the window.