Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Oh, for crying out loud.
I'm still Roseanne.
One thing I've tried not to do too much of, on this blog at least, is complain. Sure, I know I whined about having to exercise, but other than that, I try to keep things upbeat. Surround myself with positive energy here, if you will.
But today, I'm just not feelin' it. Although I try not to let the scale rule my emotions, sometimes, it just does. And after the week I had, where my eating was strictly healthy and I really kicked it up more than a notch with workouts, I was disappointed to see only a one-pound loss this morning.
It especially doesn't make sense because of my saintliness last night. How I wasn't driven straight to the freezer to start immediately shoveling heaping spoonfuls of soy ice cream into my mouth, I'll never know. What had me contemplating an evening filled with chocolate and doughnuts was The Incident. The one we shall forever more refer to as The Incident We Do Not Discuss. Honestly, I deserve, at the very least, for one additional pound to melt off and possibly to receive some sort of badge of courage.
I won't go into too many details, but I'll tell you -- it involves poop. At this point, I'm strongly considering shutting down this blog entirely and starting up a new one dedicated solely to bodily excrement. It seems my life somewhat revolves around it these days.
As I've mentioned more times than you've probably cared to hear, we've been working on potty training with Eloise. To her credit, she's been doing really well. There is just one teeny, tiny problem -- she has stopped daily poos. I think she is suffering from a really long bout of stage fright. It's like she's freaked out about pooping on the potty, so she only goes once every three or four days. When she absolutely has to. And, don't forget -- she's eating bran muffins and fruit with me every morning.
Yeah, so I'm sure you've probably started to form a mental picture . . . let me fill in a few extras for you.
There was a nap.
There was a pull-up filled with poop, lots of it, by the end of that nap.
There was a pair of leggings that got caught on the top of the pull-up as I tried to get them off.
There was a forceful tug.
There was a moment, when the leggings came free, but when they did, they snapped the pull-up down or off or wildly into some other freakish direction.
There was a feeling of dread, when I suddenly realized the wall, the door, the changing table, the floor, my child, and me had just been splattered with poop. FOUR DAYS WORTH OF POOP. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD.
So. If I seem a little downtrodden . . . well, maybe you'll pity me.
And indulge me. Tell me your body didn't respond to work outs right away. Or that you lost 6 pounds the second week you worked out. Something.
And should I reconsider what/how I'm eating? Could I be consuming way more calories than I think I am? Have any of you lost weight without counting and measuring?
One thing's for sure. Bran muffins are off the menu.