Losing a part of me

Either the weekend’s cheating was too much and prevented any weight loss whatsoever, or the bathroom scale (on the uneven bathroom floor) is not reporting properly. I know that I cheated in Montreal, but I did not think it would be so bad that I would not be at all down from Friday morning. A week from today I will drive to the doctor’s office to get weighed, and we will see if I have made any progress whatsoever. In the meantime, I plan to stay the course. If, however, by next Tuesday my weight has not dropped below 350 lbs, I am abandoning the hybrid approach and going back to the regimented plan.

On the drive home from Montreal, I did buy an all-beef pepperoni stick. I am not even sure that I was that hungry, and I do not know why I did it. The emotional turmoil from the last few days, matched with the anticipation of my evening meal of chicken and salad. I broke down, and I shouldn’t have. I should have just lit another cigar and waited until I arrived home to eat. I wonder how much of my weight-stasis is owing to the high salt content of that treat. I know that I should not be touching any processed foods, but I did, and now I have to move forward.

I am not sure how I will be able to move past the emotional and psychological realizations I made this weekend. They were hard and painful, and I do not know what I am going to do. I know that there are people who are concerned about me, but I do not know if I can overcome them. My parents, my sister… when I went off to the Army I should never have come back. I should have changed my name and disappeared from their lives, and screw them all for whatever hurt it might have caused them. Lord knows that my mother and my sister never gave a damn about causing me hurt, and my father’s failure to protect me… I would not have wanted to intentionally hurt him, but I should have protected myself whatever the consequences to him and to them.