deny-it

So I was feeling pretty guilty starting today off, after a cookie making sesh at the LINC yesterday where I chopped up a lot of chocolate, ate a bunch along the way, and then consumed a fair share of the finished product.
There was something else that I mindlessly stuffed into my mouth, but I am blocking that out- oh, right- when I got home after Saturday's late shift, I watched a few Breaking Bad episodes and chowed the last of the jumbo bag of mini eggs. Took three hours. Yeah. Maybe 20...oops.
And there was also on the weekend, the commiserating with a dear friend in need where that bottle of wine seemed to disappear between rounds of ' modern' dancing, singing or lipsincing, as well as a fair bit of crying and hugging and sharing. Yes, and then there was the morning cheeseburger that I couldn't have gotten out of bed without. So by the time I encountered the delicious banana bread loaf today, eating several slices of it seemed to be a drop in the bucket.

Truth is, it was all just a self sabotage of my goal that I am working so hard to reach. Yes, I did still do every single exercise in my workout video (out of guilt or shame), and yes, today I rode my 10k route, working to get my heart rate up (while also sweating out all the alcohol in my system). But I couldn't get it out of my head that I have not lost a single pound in two weeks of denial and exercising daily.

Okay...fuck, really? Who is this person?!
I've never been this person, and I don't like this feeling of guilt. This feeling that I've betrayed myself, my plan.
I'm not sure if I want to be this obsessed about my body. Fuck this. I have never not gotten in shape when I decided it was time, why am I putting so much pressure on myself now? Oh...right, because I am hurt, and scared that things aren't going my way. I can't stretch this injury away, or power through it. I am not in control of this hurt. I need something to control.

I eat well. I am healthy. I work hard. I have enough to worry about without obsessing over food.
FUCK DIETING.