My experience with the scale this morning can only be described as lovely. It usually isn't -- I'm normally an anxious, making-deals-with-the-diet-gods babbling fool.
As I walked to the Withings, I thought to myself "It is what it is. The number is only that -- a number."
I really was going to feel OK with whatever the scale read. Why? Because aside from one Friday evening ziti-garlic bread-cookie dinner (it's what band members and their parents eat ... OK, there was salad, too ...) I felt like I made good food choices, drank enough water and exercised consistently.
I lost 2 pounds, despite Friday's cheesy carb fest.
And that meal had me feeling like GARBAGE all weekend. For lack of a better word, I felt polluted. It totally wasn't worth it. I had reflux and heartburn all weekend, and it didn't matter what I ate. It's like all that wheat and dairy set off a digestive monster that didn't go away until today.
Ah ... feeling better.
I'm still following my super top-secret book eating plan and I did count the ziti dinner because pasta and cheese is allowed. But dairy and wheat tend to make me feel crappy, so the rest of the weekend I kept things clean and wheat and dairy free, aside from a little Greek yogurt.
That's the one big thing I learned from my dietitian -- when my digestive system starts to rebel it's time to "detox" -- and I use that word in the broadest sense. I don't really do anything specific. I just ramp up the produce and cut out the wheat and dairy and things fall back into place.
In case you missed it ...
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