A journal is personal and I should have known that sooner or later this one would also get embarrassing. I haven't posted an entry in a few days and it's about time to just jump right into the touchy subject: PMS.
I've made it to the four-week point on yesterday and I'm hovering 3-5 pounds above my previous loss of 35 pounds. I would have liked to have been at 40 pounds, but I know the 35 mark will probably hold pretty well after the effects of PMS have gone.
First of all, my apologies to anyone I might offend, but this is a part of the process.
My guess is that I've put on a little water weight, but the big concern to me yesterday was that I was hungry enough to eat a horse. I didn't eat a horse, of course, but there might be a missing pony or two in East Baton Rouge Parish.
I think my dinner last night was "normal." That scared my husband to death after weeks of tiny miniature meals. We ate out and I had grilled fish (all of it) and bits of a salad and a tiny amount of rice. Scott thought the band was about to burst or cause damage. Truthfully, I think I was just starved after a day of too much traffic and too little food. I considered calling my doctors office today to say: "I had an entire grilled fish filet -- how long do I have to live?" but somehow my pending demise wasn't enough to make me forget just how silly that sounded.
I think that internal stress and PMS might be a good test for the Lap Band because it opens the door to new doors of logic for eating. Eating can also become soothing and I find myself wanting to avoid the need for comfort food. Instead, this week, I've had very little food while on the run between Baton Rouge and New Orleans. I'm sure that's also not good.
The Hurricane scare of 2004 is over, but I'm still battling a killer commute and a hive storm.
Later this week, I'll write about Pilates class and I'll share my protein-packed quesadilia recipe.