Week two...

...or how I learned to stop complaining and just accept it already.

1/24-1/31

I hate week two. Week one was great, I did what I should and what I could and lost almost three pounds. Week two almost always yanks the rug out from under me. Probably because I'm skinnier now that rug is more easily pulled.

Foods go into my calorie counter, energy and waste come out. Ew, I know, but that's the way it is. I'm allowed 1,450 calories a day based on my age, height, weight, lifestyle and goal weight. If I work out I'm allowed more to cover the difference. This week, while I was counting, a couple days I was just watching the number go higher and higher. In order to maintain my current weight I should be eating 2,400 calories a day. Sometimes I wonder how that's even possible and how ridiculously lost and confused and hungry I was to have gained so much weight so many times.

But I'm adding things into my app and all of a sudden I've eaten 1,800 calories without making it to the gym that day (yeah, that happened this week, damn happy hour) and I can't believe how quickly it all adds up.

I went to the gym six times this week. I alternated cardio and resistance. I ran intervals on the treadmill and sweated it up on the elliptical. I upped my weights for my arms and shoulders which are both shockingly weak and something I hope to work on in the near future.

Sure there were a couple off days, but I work retail (standing and walking for eight hours a day, five to seven days a week) and worked my ass off at the gym. Weigh-in day, ready for the twist? Gained a pound. Ugh, I'm like a true life scene from Romy & Michele's High School Reunion. "I killed myself for eight days and I gained a pound!"

And before you ask, yes. I did deduct 16 pounds for my shoes.