Although I saw someone on a fitness forum spell it like the famous Greek philosopher's name mentioned in the previous post, I know exactly how to spell the weight loss phenomenon I'm currently enduring...PLATEAU.
My scale has become stubborn and simply refuses to accredit me the weight loss I feel I deserve. I mean, what's the story here? Logically, one would surmise, I'm taking in less calories than I'm expending per day. How am I not losing weight? It would seem impossible!
I was doing well up until last weekend when, admittedly, and regrettably, I, um, slipped again. Yup. The same after work "Miller Time" craving that took hold of me a couple of weeks earlier hit again. this time it was a six-pack of Bud Light Platinum. I don't even really like this beer. To be honest with you, all I saw was 6% alcohol and I was sold.
I wanted to limit the nasty business to just a six pack but I also wanted to get as fucked up as a six pack could allow. Oh my disease...she's an evil and crafty bitch. Throw in some MORE chips and salsa like before and, well, we tally up past the 2000 calorie mark really quickly. Then the next day, I finally break out a festered away but definitely not forgotten box of spaghetti from the recesses of my kitchen cupboard and I tack on another multi-thousand calorie, carb-dense pig-out-a-thon.
So since then I've tried to get "back on track" and feel I've done well too, only to be mocked by a pitiful two pound further loss.
Well, actually, two pounds in a week is, after all, considered really accelerated weight loss. More than what's "recommended" by the so-called gurus, but I was used to those nice sharp nose-dive plummets.
The thing that bothers me most though are these "Miller Time" urges. They come on really strong, and really fast. This last one, I was simply headed into Publix for...uh, well, I don't remember what...once I walked through those automatic doors my head cleared of anything else except the beer. That's how powerful they are.
This was NOT a challenge BINT. I was fully converted then. Like a newly "born-again" religious fanatic, I was fastidious in my abstinence in theory and in practice. I know I lack the same resolve this go-round.
I shudder to think how hard this all will be once the Phen Rainbow Magic fades away and reveals the cold harsh light of bitter deprivation and harmful starvation. I know that's how my Evil Mind's spin doctor will pitch it.
My scale has become stubborn and simply refuses to accredit me the weight loss I feel I deserve. I mean, what's the story here? Logically, one would surmise, I'm taking in less calories than I'm expending per day. How am I not losing weight? It would seem impossible!
I was doing well up until last weekend when, admittedly, and regrettably, I, um, slipped again. Yup. The same after work "Miller Time" craving that took hold of me a couple of weeks earlier hit again. this time it was a six-pack of Bud Light Platinum. I don't even really like this beer. To be honest with you, all I saw was 6% alcohol and I was sold.
I wanted to limit the nasty business to just a six pack but I also wanted to get as fucked up as a six pack could allow. Oh my disease...she's an evil and crafty bitch. Throw in some MORE chips and salsa like before and, well, we tally up past the 2000 calorie mark really quickly. Then the next day, I finally break out a festered away but definitely not forgotten box of spaghetti from the recesses of my kitchen cupboard and I tack on another multi-thousand calorie, carb-dense pig-out-a-thon.
So since then I've tried to get "back on track" and feel I've done well too, only to be mocked by a pitiful two pound further loss.
Well, actually, two pounds in a week is, after all, considered really accelerated weight loss. More than what's "recommended" by the so-called gurus, but I was used to those nice sharp nose-dive plummets.
The thing that bothers me most though are these "Miller Time" urges. They come on really strong, and really fast. This last one, I was simply headed into Publix for...uh, well, I don't remember what...once I walked through those automatic doors my head cleared of anything else except the beer. That's how powerful they are.
This was NOT a challenge BINT. I was fully converted then. Like a newly "born-again" religious fanatic, I was fastidious in my abstinence in theory and in practice. I know I lack the same resolve this go-round.
I shudder to think how hard this all will be once the Phen Rainbow Magic fades away and reveals the cold harsh light of bitter deprivation and harmful starvation. I know that's how my Evil Mind's spin doctor will pitch it.