Fear and Loathing in Toronto

So I stepped on the dreaded scale last week for the first time in a LONG time, and had my fears confirmed.  It was bad.  It was second year university, eating nothing but honeycombs and chicken fingers for three months, bad.  And the worst part was that I had made a promise to myself that it would never get that bad again, and I'd broken that promise to myself.

But one moves on.  One sets goals.  One gets back to the pool, and the gym, and the vegetables, and one steps away from all the holiday baked goods.

And I refuse to beat myself up over the whole thing.  2010 was a year with a lot of wonderful in it, but also a lot of stress and grief as well.  That manifested in a lot of ways, and one of them was weight gain.

My goal is to do some kind of physical activity everyday until we leave for Antigua at the end of the month.  My theory is, if I'm exercising, I won't want to fill myself with bad food.  I'll want to keep the good going.

So, this afternoon is a swim.  Tomorrow, maybe a class at the gym.  Healthy meals.  Fruits and veggies only after 8pm.

I can do this.  I have done this.  I will do this.