I have been so so so good with my diet. 10 more pounds gone and I could not be more excited about that. My clothes feel better than they have in ages. Hell, I can fit into clothes I have not been able to fit into in forever. I’m giving myself a break at Thanksgiving. Until then, there will be no cheating. Period. For example: If you have read my blog from the beginning you will know that I am following Keto. This means low carb. This means no bread unless it is keto bread (which is really just egg and cheese). Today at work we celebrated my coworkers birthday. She wanted food from our local steakhouse. I had steak tips, a salad, and green beans. It was wonderful. This meal also came with a nice fluffy perfectly baked roll. Without even thinking twice, I gave it to the birthday girl and enjoyed my meal. Freaking yay me! I love the hell out of rolls. I find it harder and harder to post about my weight loss journey here. Why? I simply cannot bring myself to post my photos. I have them. Oh I definitely have them. I just can’t do it yet. I haven’t gotten far enough. I’m not pleased enough with them and the way I look yet. I want to get there. I just can’t seem to do it. I know that I will get encouragement and that it would probably help me. Someone help me get over this! I feel like it would really take things to the next level. Maybe next week. For now though, I have a true story about one of the worst starts to a morning I have ever had. For context, my now giant dog was a giant puppy:
Awakened by my alarm, I sit straight up in bed. I am overwhelmed by a moment of panic as I realize I have turned off my first three alarms and am now running late. It is 5:20 am. My newfound superhero abilities awaken as I leap over my still sleeping husband and head for the bedroom door. Stumbling uncoordinated across the room, my foot suddenly slides out from under me. Twisting my body in exorcist like proportions, I somehow manage to right myself and stare blearily down at the floor. What in the hell did I step in? Dog pee. Sighing heavily I open the bedroom door and hop for the paper towels in the bathroom. The first two minutes of my day have been more than eventful. I wash and dry my foot as the cat rubs up against me purring. Awesome! He’s trying to make my morning better already. Sweet little guy. I trudge back to the bedroom door, open the door, step to the left to avoid the pee and feel something squish violently up between my toes. Dog poop. No, not poop. Dog diarrhea. Now both of my feet have been tainted and I hobble back towards the bathroom cursing all of the things as I go. Rounding the corner I notice the cat has shredded half a roll of toilet paper. Little bastard. He wasn’t being sweet. He was lowering my guard. Well played you furry little beast. I glare at him. He glares at me. After thoroughly cleaning my foot, I put the cat out of the bathroom and head back to the bedroom. Upon entering the bedroom, my husband calls sleepily from the bed, “Everything ok?” “It’s fine! Go back to sleep!”, I whisper yell through clenched teeth. I hopscotched over the pee and diarrhea to turn the lamp on. One hop, two hops…..squish and slide.. What in the actual hell?!! More poopy disaster. WHY IS IT EVERYWHERE? WAS SHE TURNING IN A CIRCLE POOPING? Whispering curses I begin to clean. My husband (more awake now) asks, “What is going on?” “Nothing! Everything is fine!” I cry, “Go back to sleep!” “I can’t exactly sleep when you have been muttering fuck and shit over and over again” he sighs. I clean, I disinfect. I pick up the bag of poopy grossness and walk back to the open bathroom door. Wait…..what?! The cat pauses from cleaning himself as I enter the room. The rest of the toilet paper is shredded and everywhere. He looks at me smugly, satisfactorily and saunters away leaving me holding a bag of poop as I stand in a sea of toilet paper.