Cheaters Never Win... OR Lose Weight

I cheated. Yeah, I said it. I am a dirty, rotten cheater. Thankfully, for my husband's sake at least, the only thing I cheated on was my diet.

I cheated before last night too. My family went on vacation last month to my favorite place on Earth: the beach. Ah, it brings a smile to my face just thinking about it. Warm sand between my toes, sunshine bright on my shoulders, a summer breeze blowing past my face, the trance inducing sounds of waves crashing, boardwalk fries loaded with vinegar, pizza and of course, the obligatory cone of ice cream.




I look forward to those moments with my family ALL YEAR LONG. I also planned on taking a break from my diet from that trip since starting my dieting journey back in January.

Do you see the most important word in that last sentence? That's right, I PLANNED for it. I was a good cheater. I ate breakfast. I ate dinner. I did not overindulge at either meal. In fact, I shared my breakfast with my daughter each and every morning! I did not snack. I had half of a milkshake only on one night. That was on my birthday in lieu of cake. I only gained a pound for that week. I was OK with that. And I ended up losing it the very next week.

There was no guilt associated with my diet lapse at the beach because it was scheduled ahead of time. Last night, I did not plan on eating what I ate, but I am only human. I was tempted. I needed it. My mouth was actually watering at the thought of it.



The strange things is that I'm not much of a meat eater. If you ever want to see me spit out chewed up food, start talking about the fact that what is in my mouth is actually the remains of a poor, innocent animal. I'll seriously stay away from that food for a month after that.

I hate steak. If you put a big ol' filet mignon in front of me, I will not even graze it with my knife, I'll load up on whatever sides are being served. The texture of meat has also been known to gross me out. Sometimes just thinking about it can make me gag. My hubby and I joke all the time about the fact that I'm perfectly happy eating buttered noddles every night for dinner while he prefers meat and potatoes. It's also part of the reason that I don't do much cooking. Why cook an entire meal that only one person will be eating? I'd be making separate meals for all three of us! Also, I have a hard time cooking meat. It grosses me out.

So back to the cheesesteak craving. Maybe my body wanted it because it needed it. I've got my monthly intruder so maybe I needed iron or something? I don't know.

When we originally headed over to the pizza shop, I said to my hubby (who is a saint for dealing with all my diet stipulations when it comes to choosing a restaurant to eat in) that I would only order a cheesesteak if they were out of tomato pie. I will generally eat a slice or two of their phenomenal tomato pie sans Parmesan cheese topping at least once a week. It is delicious. Yummy. Filling. A dieter's friend.

No surprise. They had sold out of it.

I tried to be good while being bad. When the employee plopped my cheesesteak in front of me, I did not add ketchup to it. I did not eat a lot of the pile of fries sitting in front of the three of us. I had a handful, that's all. Really. Despite the fact that I used to be a french fry fiend, I exhibited some willpower against their delicious pull. Unfortunately, I ate every last bite of my sandwich. Hell, I would have licked the plate if I didn't think anyone would have seen me!

So here it is, my 20 POINT indulgence. Only after hitting my 55 pounds LOST mark did I start using some of my Weekly POINTS allowance. On WW, you get 35 additional POINTS each and every week to use however and on whatever you choose. I try to use no more than five of them each week. Last night, I used almost HALF of those extra POINTS!

I feel like a big fat cow. And I don't mean that in a "you are what you eat" kinda way. I simply mean that I feel like a big fat cow.

I guess the guilt is eating at me. Pun intended.

However, part of me thinks I MIGHT just be being a LITTLE to hard on myself. After all, I remember reading that it takes 3500 calories to gain a pound. That cheesesteak probably was only a third of that!