when you're lying down on the floor.

I made a lot of poor choices over the last few days. It started with bread and salt on Thursday and it snowballed from there.

Stupid Jimmy John's and their stupid delicious bread.

I know better, but my stupid fat kid tendencies sometimes get the best of me. And that stupid high schooler who came around selling fundraiser chocolates when I was breaking down, yeah... fuck that kid.

They were PEANUT BUTTER BEARS. I couldn't say no.

And two of the most sacred words on the planet:

Not my restaurant, but I bet it's still dirty cheap and filthy delicious.

That's just the tip of the iceberg. I made bad decisions for days, but above it all I knew that no matter what I had to go to the gym. And gym I did.

Even when the clock failed me on Thursday, I made time for the elliptical at home.

Even when I had better more enticing plans on Friday, I woke up early to run.

Even when my legs quit on me on Saturday, I forced myself into a power walk.

Because every little bit counts, and something is always better than nothing.

As if the guilt wasn't eating away at me enough, my intestines decided to punish me too. So thanks, biology, for your not-so-subtle reminder to not treat my body this way. I'd like to say that I won't do it again, but I definitely haven't learned my lesson. But fuck you anyway, I won.

210.5