Chasing the Wagon

I didn't just fall off the wagon this weekend, I can't even see the wagon anymore. Was there a fork in the road? Which way did it go?

It's 11:38 A.M. on day 6. This weekend was a study in the loss of self control. Friday night I managed to keep a modicum, sticking to veggies and protein for dinner, and drinking limited amounts of Jack and soda.

Saturday, I woke around noon, drank some coffee, took my vitamins and went to lunch with Mike. We went to Jerry's. If you do not know Jerry's, then I have great pity for you. Jerry's is responsible for the best sammiches in the city. You can get anything on any kind of bread. It's like a candy shop. A candy shop filled with sammiches. I had a roast beef sammich with horseradish and provolone. It was frickin' tasty. Drank some lemongrass tea, and skipped the side. Mike, who informed me he's signed up for the marathon, only ate half his sammich, making me look like an asshole. Oh well, not the first time. Or the last.

Had plans to meet some girlfriends around 9, so at 6:30, I headed over to the gym. Gym was closed, god-dangit. Who closes a gym that early? So, nothing doing there. My apartment isn't set up for work-outs. Hardwood floors throughout, not a run in sight. My fault, yes, but what you gonna do? So, there goes Saturday's workout. I drank a SlimFast for dinner since I'd already had my solid food for the day. Headed out to Quenchers to meet the gals.

At Quenchers, I started on a mission. I didn't know it was a mission at the time, per se. Stuck to my Jack and soda plan. Of course, it's not the best plan when you consume 10-15 in one night. There's math involved. Addition, specifically. My God, the calories. And, as I mentioned before, we're not talking about liquor calories alone, we're talking the consequential calories, which for me was a very large slice of sausage pizza at 2 A.M. Jesus.

Woke up on Sunday, to the sound of pouring rain. We're talking a nooner again. Minnie Pearl was all up in my grill, waiting to go outside. I knew she'd hate it out there. She's pretty girly about precipitation. Dragged my ass down the 4 flights, and back up. Plopped on the couch, and pretty much stayed there all day. Yesterday was as close to hibernation as you can get. Didn't even try to get up and go anywhere. Let the seasonal depression take root and went with it.

So, no gym yesterday. No gym this morning, which is what I promised myself I would do. Have plans after work with Paty and Marisa. We're meeting at Hub 51, where I will try very hard to not eat or drink, and then get to the gym before it closes. Yeah, I'm realistic alright. I'll let you know how that all works out.

Weighed myself this morning, and due to this weekend's horrible choices, I am 1.5 pounds over my starting weight. That's a 4-lb. gain over the weekend. Of course, I don't think I poo'd all weekend, so that could be part of it. Not 4 pounds, I hope. Whew!

Back on track today. As much as I can be, I guess. Back to the liquids, back to downing gallons of water, verging on prison drunk.

Not feeling too super bad about this weekend's consequences, as I did have a fabulous time. Also, sounds like Mexico's about to be a non-issue with all the drug bullshit going on down there. Martial law? What the hell is going on down there. The trip is hanging in the balance at the moment, so maybe I will get more than a few weeks to turn this train around.