To be honest, I am not a big fan of Grumpy Cat, but I found myself mentally calling myself by that name a few times today. Yes, I was grumpy. I knew that today would be a challenging work day; I was right. The day wasn’t completely awful, probably because I was as mentally and physically prepared for it as I could be, but I still slipped into grumpy mode.
My mood improved significantly after a co-worker arrived at work with a venti dark roast for me from Starbucks! I’m not completely certain why she brought it for me, but I suspect that she knew that I would need it. She’s a smart cookie! The timing couldn’t have been more perfect either…she arrived just as I was going on my break.
The timing was also perfect as I had just been thinking about all the wine that I would not be drinking tonight! I’ve been handling my food restrictions rather well, I think. It’s been nearly three weeks without flours or sugars and nearly two weeks of a reduction in calories. My willpower is strong, and there has been almost nothing that has made me feel like I was missing out or being deprived. Until this morning. This morning was the sort of day that made me realize just how much I would miss sipping on a glass or two of wine at the end of the day, and I spent a few minutes in a private pity party over the loss. Then that dark roast trickled down my esophagus and soothed the frantic beast.
Now here I am at the end of my day, and I am drained, wiped out, exhausted, fried. I don’t want to think anymore. I don’t want to do anything else, except pick my daughter up soon, have a bath and go to bed before my stomach realizes how little food has been consumed today. (Although an adequate supply of food has indeed been eaten, I am further restricting my calories on Wednesdays and Saturdays, so that I can eat a little more heavily on Thursdays and Sundays in preparation for my two heavy training days!)