Choices.

It seems that I'm starting to realize the choices that I'm surrounded by on a daily basis....some, very small...granted, but some also much larger.  And with that comes the realization that regardless of the choice I am faced with, I need to make it...and then OWN that choice, regardless of the outcome.  It's called responsibility, and it comes with maturity. Or so I'm told, anyway.

Last week, my big choice was whether to take advantage of the little opportunities I am given to exercise on a daily basis, or pass them up in favor of the 'easier' route...easier being a relative term, since there ain't nothin' easy about being overweight and unhealthy.  But this week, I've not really seen much in the way of a new choice, althought I've actually been on the lookout for them.  Now...by 'choice', I don't mean the 'what am I gonna wear today' kind, I actually mean one that impacts my health.  But last night, I was finally faced with one.

Last night, we had dinner with the in-laws, and I was very proud to have had the foresight to prepare my own dinner, along with the rest of my food yesterday, to take with me so that I didn't have to rely on unknowns.  I'm very glad I did; it turned out to be a very pleasant meal (although laden with all the salt, sugar, and fat that after two weeks my body is now used to doing without and doesn't miss, thank God!), and I was able to feel totally sated with my little meal, and very content that what I had done was to combat the sabotage that inevitably creeps in during times like this.  I didn't miss a thing...and was extremely happy and pleased with myself.

Back-patting over, we headed home, but it was late when we got there, and I was exhausted. Making my meals is a night-time chore, for sure, because I'm just not moving fast enough in the mornings to get 'er done. But last night, it was bad, because I was confronted with a fridge lacking in already-prepped protein to add to my meals. I'd just eaten the last piece of my pre-cooked fish at dinner, and although I had an entire package of chicken tenderloins ready to grill up, my body was waving the white flag, big time. 

Enter my choice:  Do I deny my body the rest it craves, grill up that huge package of chicken, and lose a MINIMUM of an hour's precious sleep?  Or do I settle for using my last two cans of tuna, which I've been holding for emergencies, since they are NOT low sodium...KNOWING that Saturday morning is a weigh-in day and my body's gonna freak over all that sodium that I've been fiendishly trying to flush out of my system for the past two weeks?

The tuna won out.  I was that freakin' tired.  But I made that choice CONSCIOUSLY, knowing the impact it might have on my body, and after weighing the odds, I still felt that it was the best choice for my health at that moment.  This morning, before I ate anything, I got on the scale and weighed, even though it's not actually official until tomorrow...another choice....because I want to see exactly HOW that sodium will affect my body, if at all.  The result of my weigh-in:  251.6...an impressive number that brings my total to 9 pounds so far, over the past two weeks....IF it holds...and lays to rest my fears of the dreaded Week 2 Curse.

I will not log this number into my total, I did it for comparison purposes only.  But I've been drinking water like crazy today, hoping my body doesn't decide to retain too much of the sodium...and the water that goes with it.  I'll post the results of my experiment tomorrow....but either way, up or down, it's my choice....my responsibly made choice....that got me there. And that's ok with me.