This has been PMS week, and all that that implies. I can hear the collective groans from the women reading this, and imagine you nodding your heads in understanding and solidarity.
What that means, if I have any male readers who have somehow avoided this experience with female partners or family members, is that a monster takes over our bodies for a few days. Many of us lose complete control of our emotions which leads to some very unflattering behavior. There are mild cases, of course, and some women are able to ride the hormonal roller coaster relatively unscathed. I am not one of them.
For 39 years I have had the worst menstrual cycles of anyone I know. I will spare you the intimate details but suffice it to say, it ain't pretty. Not only do I feel like crap, but I am not very pleasant to be around. I want nothing more than to sit on the couch with a bottle of Motrin, bread, chocolate and Lifetime TV. By Day 29 I am wishing I could retreat by myself to a quiet hotel with room service, and hubby is packing my bags. In my younger days, I had my husband trained well; when told that it was that time of the month, he came home from work with a Cosmopolitan magazine, and a Snickers bar. And then he left me alone. Nowadays, Chip brings flowers and wine which is better for my psyche if not my liver.
Now, I admit that getting older has helped a bit, as has cleaning up my diet. I no longer have the extreme mood swings I once did. There are fewer rages and crying jags, and I don't give in to the junk food cravings because a) most of it isn't vegan and b) I don't keep it in my house and I'm too lazy to drive to a store to buy it. However, when that PMS monster shows up and makes his demands, I'll find something to feed him; this week it was French baguettes that I keep in the freezer for Chip. Never mind that they aren't on my Eating Program, that they have to be patiently defrosted and baked which gives me plenty of time to reconsider my actions. I prepared and consumed two of them, liberally slathered with Earth Balance, washed with a big glass of Chardonnay. *groan* Oh, they were delicious, I admit. Crunchy and buttery and warm, they shut up the monster and all was well, for a couple hours. But..you all know how I felt the next day, right? Yep. Like hell. Bloated and nauseated and guilty and just overall rotten. So, you know what I did?
I got right back on track.
My "penance," if you will, was waking up, getting dressed, and walking. Despite the grey clouds and drizzling rain, I walked 3+ miles, half of it against the wind. It was not fun, and I was not happy. But I did it anyway.
|Lest you think I'm always gorgeous and glamorous, haha!|
I came home and had my usual veggies-for-breakfast, wrote in my journal and logged into Sparkpeople, and all was well. I had a tiny setback, a few hundred calories of less-than-perfect food. That's all. It's not a crisis, just a lapse, and now it's over. Next month I'll try to do better. Period. (ha ha)
Despite all of that, I still managed to drop a few ounces and had a really good week. I'm walking 5 - 6 days per week, about 3 miles per day, and have been consistently meeting my 10,000 steps per day. I've been keeping my food simple, haven't felt like cooking as much.
Oh, and to make up for that awful selfie above, here are some cuter pics of me & Sweetie. These were taken on Sunday just before going to see the Cirque Italia. (great show, highly recommend!)
So, that's just where we're at, as my Georgia friend is fond of saying. The coming days/weeks will be more of the same eating/exercising, hopefully with positive results. The weight is coming off, ever-so-slowly, and I feel great when I stick to my program. I just need to find a better way to deal with those hormonal cravings.
Have a great day,