I say 'fooled', as yesterday evening I realised that the future is still going to be a long, hard road if I'm to avoid slipping back into the old me and putting the weight back on.
So, I ate the roast dinner with verve. It was delicious, but I felt no guilt: even when eating the roast potatoes and - God, forbid - a small Yorkshire pudding, as it was treat night. And in the grand scheme of things, with all the dieting and exercise, that bit of fat would barely touch the sides.
Then my wife offered me some cherry pie and custard.
That's when I had a small inner battle with myself. I'd previously decided that roast dinner = 'fine', dessert = 'bad'. But then, I thought, what the heck. I have to get used to eating more normally but with 'portion control' once I finish my challenge, and that will include the occasional dessert. So I said okay, just a small piece. Thankfully, being supportive of my challenge (after all, who wants a fat husband?) my wife did give me a very small piece of pie, with a few dribbles of custard (which she'd made from powder with skimmed milk). I was grateful for this tiny portion, as it was so delicious that had she put half the pie in a dish for me soaked in a gallon of custard, I'd have done the lot. So I ate my modicum of pie and custard with only a modicum of guilt.
However, it didn't stop there.
It was like, after being shut away in jail for the last few weeks, the little red devil who used to sit on my shoulder realised that I'd half-opened the cell door. So, capitalising on my sudden urge for more sugar, he pushed the blinkin' door wide open and escaped, skipping and whooping with glee, Hell-bent on mischief-making. The little bastard.
Yes, before I knew it, I'd raided the biscuit tin. I had a Nice biscuit and a ginger nut. And then, despite trying to resist, went back for more. In total, I think I ate about eight or nine biscuits. I couldn't stop myself. In the end, I managed to shut that evil little demon back up again, but only because I was racked with guilt. And, to be fair, pretty full. (Although I could have eaten more.)
Yes, there you have it. Laid bare, there is my Monday night confessional.
I ATE PIE AND BISCUITS.
And, whilst in isolation a few biscuits at the end of another week of hardcore dieting and gym-going is maybe not too bad, it was a stark warning that I'm still going to need every piece of willpower available at the end of my challenge if I'm to avoid turning from Eddie Little back into Eddie Large.
At work today, I accepted the offer of two Quality Streets. But, like last week, that was more to prove to myself that I can savour the occasional small treat, without... well, raiding the biscuit tin.
Today, I've been well aware of the fact that this is my final week. And after last night's affair with the seductive biscuit tin, I'm determined to finish with a bang, not a fizzle. Call me vain, but I'm also aware that in 6 days time I've got my 'After' photo being taken, and I want to look as fit as possible for it. So I decided tonight, that this week it really is all or nothing. I'm going to avoid any further indulgences. And I'm going to work harder at the gym than ever before.
Tonight I hit my 'half-century': 50 visits to the gym in 50 days. It's only a number, but it feels great. So with my mantra to do even more this week, I did an even-harder-than-usual chest workout, lifting heavier weights than before and doing more sets. After some stomach exercises, I hit the cross trainer for 30 minutes. Now, I'm not sure if it was (a) my determination to work harder than ever this week, or (b) some extra stored calories from last night's ginger nut extravaganza... but I was a machine. For 30 minutes, I cross trained like the Terminator. I usually burn between 495 and 525 calories on the cross trainer - depending on how fatigued I'm feeling after my weights session - with a personal best of 532 which I think I noted on here back in week 2 / week 3 sometime. But tonight - bearing in mind I'd done a big chest workout - in my new found Terminator Zone, I burnt 552 calories. It went somewhere towards easing the guilt I'd accumulated last night.
Yes, this week is all or nothing week. I'm going out with a bang.
My diet today has consisted of:
- Breakfast: An apple and a banana;
- Mid-morning snack: Two 'occasional' chocolates;
- Lunch: Two tins of mackerel;
- Dinner: A tin of tuna, a tin of mackerel, a few chillis, a beetroot and a banana.
Anyway, please excuse the long post this evening. I feel like I've just had an attack of literary diarrhoea. I obviously had a lot to get of my chest. But if you're still with me... thanks for reading, and good night!
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