Not beating myself up too much...

I'm at like, 500 for the day.

I don't know how I feel about that. Seems to be right on track, for being nearly 1 PM. Haven't gotten to go running yet, but it's in the plan, as soon as I can get little B down for her nap.

I ate a lot last night. I drank quite a bit of alcohol. I don't know why I do that. I mean, sure, it's relatively fun while you're doing it, depending on with whom you're drinking and what you're doing. K and I were at a friend's house playing video games and chatting, drinking, and eating. Salty cocktail peanuts, tortilla chips, pita chips, Pringles, and dried apricots. Fruit juice with my vodka. I stopped counting calories. There was no point. Couldn't keep track in my head and couldn't pull out my calculator without looking insane. :P

I kind of let go intentionally. I spent a lot of time last night thinking about how nice it would be to retain this lifestyle of restriction and steady weight loss (as I can't stand the thought of getting any bigger, of course) but still manage to enjoy normal social-type interactions without that intense guilt. To be me, in all of my food/calorie eccentricity, but with the ability to have a few cocktails without hating myself, to laugh and be carefree, say yes to a few nachos or a slice of pizza because that's what everyone else does without a second thought. People I go out with peruse the dessert menu in excitement and anticipation of how wonderful a slice of cheesecake sounds right now...Let's get one! We'll split it! Ooh, with chocolate covered strawberries on it! Yeah. No. I'm not allowed to even think about that kind of thing, much less entertain the thought of really EATING it. Jesus.

Yeah, I guess there's no point in fantasizing about this kind of life. It simply doesn't exist for me. Meh. I'm not feeling as passionate about it as I was last night.

Felt like total garbage this morning. Dehydrated and heavy, slightly hungover. Oh, and did I mention the fact that I ate approximately 5.2 metric tons of all that party food? I kept eating, shoveling it in FAR after I was uncomfortably full. Why? I have no idea. I really don't. I know that I laid down last night, feeling as if my stomach was literally going to explode. Like the food inside of it was about to burst forth from my mouth any second, and I wasn't even that buzzed by this point. No, this agonizing nausea/stomach pain was completely unrelated to alcohol. I had eaten to a point of pain, of shock; my body had no idea what to do with all of that.

Weighed in at 133.8 this morning. I know that a lot of it is still food left over inside of me. Maybe a pound or so? I should have finished off the night with a box of laxies, but the mere thought of putting another ANYthing into my mouth was too much to bear.

My fingers look fat right now. Ugh.

I'll be okay. For some reason, rather than feeling as depressed as I probably should after the last few days I've had, I feel...optimistic. Perhaps reading some of your blogs before I sat down to write my own post was a good idea. You all inspire me to be more than I am, to be better, to be stronger. Thank you. :)

I'm off for now... The little one is restless and it's my job to entertain her. My pleasure, I mean. Both. ;)

I hope you're all well...Here's to a strong and successful week ahead... Back down two pounds by Friday, that's my goal! :D