I had a bad day Tuesday. It started off with me in tears and didn't get much better at work. I won't go into the details of why today was what it was, but know that it brought me down and made me completely antisocial.
Several people asked me to go to the gym -- and while at first, I didn't want to, Rob was nice enough to drag my ass out of the house and force me to go to 24 hour fitness.
I hadn't eaten dinner yet and was starving. But he pointed out that I likely wouldn't go if I ate first. I'd either get sneepy, or I'd simply stay home and mope. At least in not eating dinner, it made me seem lighter when I weighed myself. I weighed 121 lbs -- my goal is to be between 113 and 116 lbs.
By the end of the work out, I was famished. Our choices? Go to Safeway to pick up ingredients for cooking... something. Or McDonald's 24-hour drive through. Of course, we chose McDonald's and undid everything we had done at the gym.
I decided to order a Happy Meal in a lame attempt to do something "positive" for myself today. Happy Meal = Happy Me, right? Wrong.
The world obviously doesn't want me to be happy right now. It won't even give me a stinkin' Kung-Fu Panda McDonald's Happy Meal toy.