Four days of exercise this week. I ran out of exercise clothes, and didn't get caught up on the laundry, so that was enough of an excuse. Come to think of it, I still don't have any clean exercise clothes... Diet, still no good.

I thought it worth mentioning that I got in 5 days of exercise this past week. Four days of walking, including a 2+ mile trek with Wrigley in the stroller to see the cows. The weather was great on some days, not on others. Good thing I have a treadmill. Stuart and I played racquetball on the fifth day for date night. It was my first time ever. I wasn't very good, but it was fun. Not sure how fun it was for Stuart since I was not any kind of a challenge. I was lucky to keep a volley going. Still struggling majorly with diet, but it's something.

Men Are From Mars

So, my hubby is loosing weight. He started P90X in mid January. He stuck with it for about 6 weeks. He hasn't really exercised in probably a month. He watches what he eats. Most of the the time. He coaches a high school baseball team, so he swings the bat 300 times a day and jogs over to first base whenever they're up to bat in a game, and he refs church basketball games on Saturday afternoon, but there's no real cardio going on. He just not eating as much as he use to, and he's still dropping weight every week. He's down 32 lbs. in 11 weeks.

It's disgusting. It doesn't seem like he's even trying!

I mean it's good. I'm proud of him for doing it. He looks great, which is good for me and for him. I'm sure his heart is healthier, and eventually, after a few surgeries, his knees (ankle, shoulder...) might not hurt so much. I can tell he's excited about new clothes and looking better.

The problem is, I'm having a really hard time being happy for him. It comes down to jealousy I suppose. I worked so hard for so long to loose the weight I did. It took me 6 months of running six days a week, watching what I ate every day, and eventually counting calories to loose that same amount. I remember celebrating 32 lbs. lost at my brother's wedding. Now here I am having gained back every bit of my 43 lb. total and then some.

Every pound he looses somehow makes me feel more the failure. I guess I feel left behind. The better he looks, the more disgusting I feel. The more excuses I find. The more hopeless it seems. Especially since I have the possibility of another baby looming over me. What's the point if I just have to get fat and pregnant anyway. I'm twenty pounds heavier than I ever was at the beginning of a pregnancy. I don't hit this weight until I'm about 6 months in. Of course I can't tell him any of this because I; 1) don't want him to say "I told you so," and 2) I don't want him to feel bad for his success, and 3) I don't want him to stop. Like I said, he's looking good.

*Sigh* I've gone so far backwards. I feel like since I've failed what's the point? Why go through all the effort since I'll probably just end up fat, and probably fatter than before? You'd think all this dribble would be motivating. It really just encourages me to make cookies.

Today marks the day of epic failure. Complete and total failure. I surely haven't earned weight loss, but seeing the same number I saw flashing back at me on the scale when I started this journey almost two years ago was extremely disheartening. I don't normally weigh in on Thursday, but I just came off the flu, and despite a few days of eating little or nothing, I felt and looked bigger. Sure enough, I've gained 7 lbs. in the last week. I feel no hope. I don't know that it's even worth the effort. Even if I loose weight for a little while, it's doubtful I'll keep it off long enough to matter. Hopeless, pointless, failure...

So, I gained two pounds. Only exercising one day last week, and a big time cookie binge will do that to ya'. So I'm trying to get it right again this week. Week two of the running program. I ran 2 min./walked 1 yesterday. Today's a walk day. I'm oh, so, tired. I'll have to get it in sometime.

3-0 again today! 30 minute walk outside with the baby (who's 2 and not really a "baby" anymore). Now if only I hadn't made cookies to take to scouts today...

Two Days in A Row

It's progress. I didn't make it out of be this morning. I made the mistake of laying my head back down after the alarm went off, and next thing I knew the 7:00 am alarm was ringing. I wavered for a few hours, telling myself that I'd get it in later, maybe in the evening, but in the end I knew I wouldn't get on the treadmill tonight. I'd be tired. There would be dishes, and sewing to do. I just had to do it. The twins went out to play with friends (I feel a bit guilty about that), and Wrigley came to the basement to play while I did my 30 min walk/run per runner's world's schedule.

I've decided there are three things I want to accomplish each day; personal scripture study, personal prayers, get my exercise in. If I can do those three things I'll count it as a good day. Everything else is extra right now. Anyone who walks into my house will know it! Today I'm 3-0. Yea!