Damn. I gained a pound. And I deserved to gain, too. I spent the first four days of last week being very good and exercising a lot, and then Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, I was generally out of it. I wasn't terrible, not like I have been in the past. In other words, I didn't down half a pizza and 10 chicken wings in one sitting, but I just wasn't careful.
Friday night I watched TV for hours, and had a nibble there, a sip of wine there, and all told ended up about 12 points over my limit. Not too bad, but not good.
Saturday I did walk about 6-7 miles, and managed pretty heroic self-control at brunch. But Saturday evening G and I went to a bar to hear his brother's band, and we ordered hoagies that came with fries, and had several drinks. Very bad.
Sunday we were going to be good, and started off OK with a piece of toast for breakfast. We planned to eat steak for dinner, but not much else, which would have been a fine day. I even threw away a serving of delicious macaroni and cheese that G had brought back from his trip. Then our neighbor told us that the brand-new Mexican grocery store on the corner was handing out free tamales. Hello! You can't pass that up! And I don't feel guilty about eating one. I do feel guilty about drinking a couple beers and a couple cocktails. There was just no need for that.
And that, I think, sums it up. Had I not imbibed, I probably would have lost weight this week. I'd had two good-sized losses in a row, and knew that couldn't continue, but I let my guard down and need to get back on track. This upcoming week will be a good test--we are going out to dinner at a nice place Friday night, and I plan to thoroughly enjoy that meal. But I can't let it throw me off for the rest of the weekend.
Current weight: 205.5