Wow. One hundred days since I started South Beach.
It doesn’t seem that long. And in actuality, it really isn’t that long – just a little over three months. But when you count those days individually? One hundred days full of one hundred choices each, with one hundred opportunities to fail or quit in every day… That’s a lot of days.
Every day is a struggle and a battle all its own. I say that now 34.5 lbs lighter than I was on April 15th (weighed in at 192 lbs this morning) because it is still true. Yes, I have gotten in the habit of eating breakfast every morning. Yes, I have gotten in the habit of replacing starches with vegetables. But that doesn’t mean that I never feel like ordering a pizza when I’m tired after work, or that I don’t want to cave and eat some of the candy my boss keeps stashed for us in the office.
And I have done those things – the pizza and the candy and several other transgressions. But I’ve done them minimally. I couldn’t tell you my pass/fail percentage for choices like that, but I would probably give myself a B or a B+ overall in the area of self-control; I didn’t exceed expectations, but I’ve probably done above average.
The thing I think I’ve learned about self-control is that it is just what it says it is. Self-control doesn’t mean self-denial. It means you being in control of your actions and your decisions. It means that the food is not in charge of what I eat; I am in charge of what I eat. So on Saturday night, when Hubbo and I go out on our date to this French restaurant and I “cheat,” I don’t consider that a failure. I’ve made the decision that a nice evening out with my husband is ok every now and then. Only you, yourself, can make those decisions; only you can decide how much you can break the rules without your goals collapsing on you. That’s why it’s called self-control, after all.
Anyway, enough of that serious mumbo-jumbo. I know you all prefer picture-books anyway. 
This is what I had for breakfast this morning. You know what? I got full! After I had my eggs and toast, I only made it through half my yogurt. Part of me is proud of this: I no longer eat and long for inordinate amounts of food! There is still a part of me that gets sad when I can’t finish, though; it tastes soooo good, after all. But I am taming that part, and I don’t listen to it anymore when it tells me to keep eating.
Now that’s what I call a major victory.
