Friday and Saturday were elliptical days, Saturday our son hit his dad's garage door remote on his keys and when it started coming up with no warning and its loud screechyness I about fell off the machine and screamed like a total weinie. Sunday was my mother's birthday and even though I had gone out to eat the previous two nights I had to eat Italian take out that night and while delicious, was not a smart choice. However, I think the other nights were good choices and I ended up maintaining over the weekend somehow so that must mean ye olde scale had dropped a bit. No worries, at this point I'm truly in a place where the scale is merely a tool, albeit a faulty one, and so I am not feeling bad/good about any numbers. If it becomes a mental pitfall I will once again avoid weighing but I don't see it happening. Working on loving myself, imperfect or no, has removed a lot of things.
Yesterday I fit a lifting session in between dropping the Boy off and driving to school. I upped my weights on chest flyes, squats, calf raises, and triceps extensions. I need to up it on the lunges as well and I was able to complete a set of curls with no negative reps needed on either arm, something I've been working towards. I came inside and laid on the floor, legs point straight up and shoulders/head raised as well, like a curled up sort of position that killed my abs-held that for a slow count of thirty and then did plank for...hmm I think thirty (the cat came up and decided to decorate my face with her tail fur while I was trying to concentrate).
Eating is sensible and unmeasured, I've had a hard time getting back to the great place I had arrived with food after eating that Italian food, its like it set off a chain reaction of munchy days-that should tell us something about so-called "bad" food. High fat/calorie/grease/salt food sets off negative behavior for me, but the good news is: this too shall pass.
A shake of cinnamon in your coffee grounds before brewing really livens up a cup of joe, I'm just sayin'.