Well great. I worked out for 6.9 hours last week, ate perfectly except for 3 lousy wine coolers and 2 little unfrosted cupcakes, and I lost nothing at all. What the hell? I was really expecting a big week, and I got a slap in the face instead. There is nothing I hate more than thinking I was doing awesome and seeing no result at all for my effort.
I mean, I’ve been doing the weight loss game forever, and I’ve had plenty of no-loss or slight gain weeks during that time. But every single time, if I dug down, I could say, well, I shouldn’t have half-assed that workout or had that second plate at dinner or it’s the time of the month or whatever. This is one of very few times ever that I just don’t get it at all.
Whatever. I’m not in the mood to make goals for next week. I’m just going to keep doing what I have to do and hope it pays off soon.