Discouraged

I've been on a plateau for ten years.  I took off the weight almost easily, but cannot lose that last ten pounds.  This is not news to anyone.

Last Friday, exactly as week ago, I was weighed at a doctor's appointment and it came out at 113.  I weighed myself yesterday at work and it was 114.  My pants are tight.  My boobs don't fit completely into the cups of my bras.  My pants and bras both leave marks on my skin when I undress.

This is bullcrap.  Yesterday I felt so discouraged because I've been eating all the right foods, counting calories and making sure I don't go above a certain number.  I.  Am.  So.  Sick.  Of.  Salad.  I'm also sick of shoving away & ignoring cravings for sweets and all things fried.

I got fed up last night and figured if I eat the right things and still gain weight, well by God, I'm gonna eat what I wanna eat!  So right before bed I had a Hot Pocket (ew) and a short stack of Ritz crackers with cheddar cheese.

That was a mistake, I suppose.  At work today I got one of those evil cupcakes that have 500 calories, 26 grams of fat and 41 grams of sugar.  "It took me five minuets to eat it and I'll probably regret it for the next 3 or 4 days," I muttered to a coworker.  "Nah, you move around so fast, you'll burn it off," he said.

YOU WOULD THINK SO!!!!  Sweating buckets and running around at work ain't burning off broccoli and lettuce!!!!  Soon after I ate the cupcake, I got on the digital scale at work.  117!!!!!!

"That can't be right!" I hollered to Patti.  "Well...." she gave me a sideways glance.  "You did eat that cupcake..."  Patti then winked at me and it became one big joke.

I had to stop at the bank after work and I passed what seemed like a hundred delicious fast food joints.  I never crave fast food, especially when it's over a hundred degrees.  I kept picturing Chik-fil-a nuggets and waffle fries in my hand, a big juicy Whataburger, even Bush's chicken tenders slopped in gravy.  God help me.

I figured if I could make to the interstate, I'd be alright.  Then once on the interstate, I remembered that I had to pass about three thousand more greasy joints, easy accessible by exit ramps.  Sigh.  And even when I hit my neighborhood, I cross the street with the Family Dollar whose shelves are lined with cakes, cookies, and bags of Cheetos.  I drove straight past the 7-11 and made it home. 

I shoveled more nicotine gum into my mouth.

When I quit smoking, it was an awesome thing.  I don't crave cigarettes.  I can sit next to someone smoking & it doesn't stir up the urge.  The smoke bothers me greatly, as in I cannot breathe, but I do not want one.  Why is it that with junk food, I fight it all day, every day?  I gave of smoking, I do not want it.  I gave up junk food--I WANT IT ALL THE FREAKING TIME!!!!!

I need therapy.