Typing with paint-covered fingers. When my life opened up after cutting back my hours this week (hoo-yah!), I got home improvement fever. I've been painting and hammering and sewing like mad. What I haven't done is (let's face it) much formal exercise. The truth is I like it here-- I like having the scale bounce around an okay number without my having to angst or sweat it (literally). My new things all fit and if I gain a bit one day, I go easy the next and all is well. It feels very normal and pleasant and unstressful.
Except that I know my blood sugars are not that great and I've lost some muscle. Even if I never lose another pound, I'll be healthier if I exercise at least half an hour a day. Which is certainly not too hard for me. I've seen bloggers write that they wish they had a medical reason to lose weight to motivate them, and it certainly worked for me, but on some level I feel like I did my part, I lost my 10%, so why am I still prediabetic? I'm prediabetic, of course, because I blew out my beta cells by teetering on a BMI of 30 for almost 18 years, tripping an underlying predisposition. Bummer. I have figured out how to feel much better-- by Eating Like a Grownup, more or less-- so I am going to take a minute to be grateful for that.
Today was Cheat Day and while I lurve Cheat Day, there's no question that I spent the afternoon in bed sleeping off a carbohydrate overload. I feel like I'll never be hungry again (um--right!) Some Saturdays I eat pretty normally with some junky stuff in there. Today I pretty much ate from the Nacho and Pinwheel Cookie foodgroups. So probably not much over on calories but I feel like a dog that ate socks from the laundry basket. Don't do it, people.
I did take a brisk moonlit walk with my spouse and my nutty dog, which was the kind of gentle but purposeful exercise that's just the ticket when you feel like your stomach is full of socks. I am contemplating a cherry protein shake for dinner. Maybe. If I ever feel the need to eat again.