I'm down 2.6 pounds this week, for a total of 5.4 pounds. Only 38.6 pounds to go!
What I did was I cut out most carbs, eating only a very small amount of whole grains. I still ate fruit, but only two hours after a meal or half an hour before a meal. I know it sounds insane, but it works (this is advice from the SugarBusters! plan that I used to lose 30 pounds previously). I cut out chocolate for the first five days and then added it back in, in the form of a square of dark chocolate in the evenings.
Life was getting unmanageable without chocolate.
I exercised one time -- went for a half hour walk. Strenuous, I know! I plan to start my real exercise program this week.
I had a cheat meal at a restaurant in Mountain View called Cascal, which I adore. Everything there is delicious. Paella, empanadas, ceviche, mai tais, and a chocolate souffle cake that slayed me. Worth every calorie.
Yesterday I put up a very vague post, and I'm sorry for that because it's annoying when people do that. I'm very stream-of-consciousness on here, and because I felt that at least part of what I was thinking of wasn't my story to tell, and that it is a painful story at that, I should just button my lip.
But today I'm going to tell you.
I referred to a revelation. The revelation was that I may have been pregnant five years ago, about five weeks after my wedding. The night before my mother-in-law passed away I became very ill and was up all night vomiting from what I thought was food poisoning. At one point I decided I was probably going to die, so I should probably just give up and lie down on the bathroom floor, where I passed out. The mystery of my food poisoning was that my husband had eaten all the same things that I had that day, and hadn't gotten sick. It's still certainly possible that it was food poisoning, but I had the realization that it also could have been a pregnancy -- something that never occurred to me during what was one of the most stressful times in my life.
Obviously, if I was pregnant, it didn't work out.
For reasons known only to my warped brain (which isn't talking), this thought led to another thought, and another thought, and another, and then I came up with the idea to write a memoir of sorts. Which may sound ridiculous, but it is what it is.
Justin Bieber did it, and so can I.