I had such a good day yesterday. Ran 4 miles, the scale was kind, and I felt like I was making progress somewhere.
And then this morning happened. Couldn't get up. Missed my run. Hate my hair. My clothes. My body. My brain. I didn't even want to leave the house. The scale was decidedly unkind, which is ridiculous, because I know I didn't gain 3 pounds in a day.
Days like this are always going to happen. There are going to be setbacks. There are going to be days when it feels like it's not worth it and I should just throw in the towel, stop exercising, and eat whatever the hell I feel like.
But I know that's far from the solution. That the self-loathing would take up permanent residence, and things would just go downhill. So I just have to focus on eating only what I bring with me to work (and avoiding the M&Ms and wedding cake) and giving it my all in beach vball tonight.
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