I had a rocky but good January. I started at 212 pounds and today I'm 199. That's a good month in my book, and especially so when you consider how many times I slipped up and pigged out. 

Writing the last post was immensely helpful. There was a real power in acknowledging the problem, calling it out, and I really haven't fallen into that habit. I had a perfect week last week-- perfect. I had a solid weekend involving two carb meals, both were really good and then I came back. I executed another flawless week this week with zero cheating.

How do I feel? I feel content. I feel really happy. I feel fulfilled.

And I feel like cheating. 

My brain is so, so stupid. I am always happy that I'm doing well. I look better, maybe better than I've ever looked in my life. My lifting was pretty solid in January, and although I've never had muscles, I've got the groundwork starting to show. Probably not to everyone else, but to me flexing in front of the mirror, my progress is clear. 

I wish I had a solution to write this time. It seems like addiction is a beast that can lay dormant for a long time. I've practiced doing something else, but it's almost as though my whole life of food being a reward is too hard to shake. I've done so well, I need to celebrate. And my undying desire is to celebrate in a way that I'll regret. 

You can't not do things. People are bad at that. Whatever you tell them not to do, they'll do it. But we're good at adapting. I just need to adapt to celebrating in other ways. Stay tuned. Maybe.