Weekly weigh-ins? Kinda gross. It's not so much that I'm concerned with the actual number on the scale (because I know, I know, I KNOW that muscle mass is heavy, and I want more muscle mass), but I know that the reality of having to get on a scale at a set time is something that motivates me during the week. It's more the fear of seeing an increase, than an overwhelming desire to see a decrease. Does that make sense? I know when I pig out and eat garbage and lots of salt, my weight goes up quickly. But when I eat well, my weight goes down a little, or at least stays at a happy place. My scale is just a battery-operated conscience.
Monday, June 4th - 125.6lbs
Breakfast: Scrambled eggs (whisked with coconut milk) and kale cooked in ghee, with two cups of half-decaf with coconut milk and a tiny bit of honey.
Lunch: Ugh. Leftovers. And not the good kind. Let's just say it involved a small piece of the kids' homemade (gluten-free) pepperoni pizza from Saturday.
Snack: DCQT. (Dark Chocolate Quiet Time. That means I sit and savour a square of dark chocolate for a ridiculously long time while the three kids nap. This often happens on days when I'm extra tired.)
Supper: Hot Italian sausages fried in coconut oil, with a side of oven-roasted cauliflower with olive oil. We were supposed to have guacamole with supper, but I've been having the worst luck with avocados lately! I cut into four today, and all of them were still too hard to mash, but they were already bad inside! Argh.
It was a weird day. My house is a disaster, and I have to give a talk tomorrow night that isn't written yet. But still, instead of working on those things, I sat down at my sewing machine. Last week I made a skirt while avoiding talk-writing, this week I took in a black strapless dress I wore like CRAZY last summer. Just one of those Old Navy jersey numbers. Nothing fancy, but it was such a great little just-throw-it-on-and-go, dress-it-up-or-down, easy-peasy dress. I loved that the elasticized strapless-ness of it made it a breeze for nursing Baby Belle. (Under a nursing cover, of course. I'm not really a whip-it-out kind of breastfeeder.) In addition to the dress getting taken in, I finally got around to altering a plaid skirt I bought about six weeks ago at the thrift store. The pattern is adorable, and it fit perfectly in the waist. But it was about three inches past my knees, and a frumpy kind of stiff A-line. I took it in and hemmed it up, and now I have a plaid pencil skirt. Go me! And now I really must get at that talk, or the girls are going to be mighty P.O.ed tomorrow night!