5'3", 175 pounds. So says the doctor on Monday. Female, if that makes any difference. Geezus. How'd I get this way? I've heard the term "fatorexic" to label people in denial about being fat. If that's the case, I'm the poster child.
My first "real" week of going Primal is going well. I had been dabbling for two or three weeks before the ill-fated trip to the doctor's scale. Now, it's time for getting real. Real Grok, that is!
My husband, saboteur extrordinnare, took me out for a latte and a "treat" tonight. I got soy, sugar free, took two sips, then waited for him to leave before I poured it out. It just tasted like a chemical slurry. I came home to an awesome chicken, pineapple and sundry salad that I saved from my hyooge lunch of more chicken and sauteed veg. I bought the salad from the salad bar as extra veg, but got too full to eat it.
Took a bite of an oatmeal raisin cookie today, just out of habit, and put it aside. The gratification is just not there anymore. I'll take that as a good sign.
Reading Michael Pollan's "In Defense of Food." Amazing stuff. Just the phrase "edible foodlike substances" makes my stomach churn now. "Novel products of food science," he goes on to call the "middle aisles" things you find in the grocery store.
Onward and upward (or downward goes the scale). . .