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Man, some days are so hard. Days when I haven't slept much the night before and am tired, I just want to eat. And I don't want to eat low-fat string cheese and a few nuts. I want to EAT. Sandwiches, chips, Taco Bell.... Holy cow. That sounds so good right now. But I'm in a war with this baby weight. I have to look at it as fighting daily battles everytime I sit down to eat. Everytime I do well at a meal, it's a battle won. Like today when we went out to eat lunch and they sat a fat basket of hot yeast rolls with butter in front of my face and everything in me wanted one, but I waited for my salad. That's a battle won. It's one step closer to winning the war, and which ever side wins the most battles, wins the war. If I win more, I get my body back. If the food wins more, I have to keep this body that makes me uncomfortable. Each small victory motivates me more to keep fighting, even if I lose an occasional battle. One day, one meal, one snack at a time.
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