Sometimes Chris makes me feel like kicking puppies

Wow.  Almost two weeks since I've written here.  I really didn't think it had been that long.  Sorry.  I won't let it happen again.  Suffice it to say, it's been a crazy couple of weeks I guess. On to the updates.

Remember when I said I would never keep a food journal?  Chris read that and guess what?  Yeah.  I am now attempting to keep a food journal.  I haven't been very consistent with it (big shock) so I'm thinking that I might have to start keeping it here on the blog.  Wait.  I've not been very consistent with that either.  Hmm.  I'm starting to see a pattern developing.

Remember when I said I didn't want to know the numbers and that scales have defeated me my whole life?  Well, I'm paying attention to the scale again and I know the numbers (they make me a little suicidal but I'm dealing with it**).  The trainers and I talk about the numbers often.  I think Chris would like to see the numbers go down a little faster and he drives me crazy by wanting to know what I weigh at different times of the day.

Personally, I'm glad progress is being made even if it's slow in coming.  It's a new trend compared to the past year and a half and I'll take it.  It's something to build on and things are moving in the right direction so it's a change I can live with.

Over the past couple of weeks I've been working out with the trainers, albeit, inconsistently.  (Why does that word keep popping up?)  My strength is improving.  I am smaller.  I have more muscle.  I have less body fat.  I feel better.  I think I just wrote my new mantra. 

I'd like to take a moment to report about "the mocha incident".  Last week I went to one of those trendy five-dollar-per-pop coffee places and ordered a mocha.  Now, I would like to say in my defense, I ordered a small mocha with two extra shots of espresso, skim milk and no whipped cream and I didn't even drink the last half inch of syrup out of the bottom of the cup!

When I came into the clinic with said five dollar trendy beverage, Chris behaved as though I had just punched a baby.  I'm not kidding.  We argued about the mocha for roughly two hours and entirely through my workout.  He looked it up online only to discover I had consumed roughly 150 calories.  I didn't really think it was a huge indiscretion.  He has other ideas.

Did I mention I was premenstrual at the time of the mocha purchase?  I would just like to state that there are times, as a woman, with hormones, that I crave specific things.  Chocolate smothered in caffeine is one of them.  Let me state this very clearly: If anyone attempts to get between me and my chocolaffeine prior to my body doing it's middle-aged, peri-menopausal psycho cycle, you do so at your own risk.

I will minimize the damage to my weight loss efforts by removing the coveted creamy goodness of 200 calories of whipped cream.  I will even forego the fat-laden milk but if you push me to denying myself this indulgence altogether, I will start kicking puppies*** and burning bridges (Chris!).  If you imagine me sitting at my desk writing this, audibly growling at my monitor, you've got the picture. 

If it takes me longer to get where I want to be with the five dollar coffee, so be it.  The whole process is painful enough.  I will give you my mocha when you pry it from my cold, dead chubby fingers!

There is more coming this week.  I have news from the farm to report.  The holidays are coming which means temptation follows.  Lots of news about the clinic and our Open House events to report as well, so stay tuned this week.  I won't let you down.  Unless you take away my occasional mocha.  Then I will drop you like a sack of bricks.

Thanks for reading, following, spreading the word and being here.

** I am not suicidal.  I am not a threat to myself or others.  Ok, I might be a threat to Chris and Steve but I consider that self-defense.  Do not e-mail me or comment that you think I need psychiatric help because I'm making suicide threats on my blog.  It's a figure of speech, people. 

*** I don't kick puppies.  Do not contact the Humane Society.  Just another figure of speech.  Calm down.