*Plotline mental health update*
Plotline: *comes home, decides to have one of two allotted packets of Buldak he allows himself for the week*
Dadline: You giving up on your diet?
Plotline: *puts away pot and buldak, makes rice instead, despite Dadline and Momline telling him otherwise after the fact*
Did you know I'm almost 40? >.>'
Full context: So, basically, through my diet, I allow myself two packets of Buldak a week. A far cry from what I was eating, but I gotta have something quick and easy some nights that can curb my cravings.
Dadline, however, has one of the worst sense of humor and teasing attitudes of anyone I've met, and when he saw me setting up my pot, he asked "you give up on your diet?" I immediately stop.
Despite him and Momline urging me otherwise, I pivot and make some fried rice instead.
TECHNICALLY healthier (fewer calories, less fat, better ingredients, but probably more carbs, and sodium is probably a wash?), but the tone at home has been different since.
I've had a long, arduous week, including what I think was a mini-panic attack on Sunday over how much I have to do at work with the big bosses zeroing in on us all.
All that stress, and the guilt tripping, I folded like a napkin.
I've lost 12 lbs since the start of the year. I'm not giving up. I'm actually trying hard. I've mediated my portion control, and I've mediated what I eat. I've been to a fast food joint, maybe TWICE this year. Not twice a week like before, twice total. I've had, maybe, THREE Diet Cokes all year. I've started eating SALADS.
Maybe it was just a perfect storm, but being asked if I'm giving up hurt. -_-;
Plotline Graveheart
Maven Cash