Last week, I was frustrated that despite all my efforts, my weight loss had stalled. The clinic counselors decided to change it up a little, by putting me on a variation of the plan that was supposed to jump start my metabolism so I could start losing again.
For one week, I consumed liquid protein for breakfast, lunch and two snacks. I was allowed a tiny meal at dinner: 2 cups of lettuce, 3 ounces of protein, 1 cup of a limited number of vegetables (the only one on the list I could tolerate was broccoli) and a small tangerine. Mid-way through the week, when I actually GAINED weight, I deleted the tangerine.
I fluctuated throughout the week by about a half pound. By Saturday, I felt bloated (and was convinced that I was retaining water). Yesterday, I felt downright weak.
And today's weigh-in results were disappointing.
The needle on the scale is stuck exactly where it was two weeks ago.
To say I'm feeling frustrated is putting it mildly.
Depressed, demoralized, ready to give up?
Yes, yes and getting there.
"You're not getting enough exercise," my husband points out.
He's right. I should get back to where I was the first week on the program - I'm just afraid of what getting more exercise will do to my appetite, especially after yesterday, when I literally ended up taking an afternoon nap because I was so tired.
Maybe it's time to take that appetite suppressant that was prescribed for me when I began the program again.
In the meantime - I've resigned myself to the fact that when the program is finished at the end of this month, I won't be near the 20 pound weight loss I'd hoped to achieve. At this point, if I can end the program 10 pounds lighter, I'll feel like I accomplished something -- and I only need to lose three more pounds to reach that lesser goal.
I hate lowered expectations.
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