Baby Steps

Baby steps to the car. Baby steps to the grocery store. Baby steps past the cheddar cheese.

My wonderful and talented sister-in-law decided she was tired of me eating junk food and writing about it. Her actual text went a little something like "For the love of God don't let me read the words "fast food" on that blog next week!" And invited me along for a grocery shopping adventure.

Now, like I told her, it was not a matter of mmm, I can't wait to scarf me down some grease and potatoes. I would seriously be looking at the menu and be thinking "Bleh. Really? Is there any way I can order half a hamburger, hold the heart attack?" I really do prefer good food. I actually get a craving for veggies.

My schedule, however, is more conducive to chicken strips and tater tots. My day is literally jam packed. When I get home, all I want to do is crash.

However, I've been pretty good this week about actually hauling my butt out of bed early and making breakfast...that is when a blackout doesn't take out my damn alarm clock. I've been making lunch for the next day at 11:00 at night because it's the ONLY available time.

But I gotta say, it's working. I haven't looked at the numbers, but I certainly feel better about myself. Part of that could be that I found my self-respect again on a whole different playing field. (It wasn't in the pocket of an old pair of pants like I previously thought. It was at the bottom of my fourth margarita!) But that's another story.

There is a table of danger at work. On this table are all sorts of candies and carbs practically taunting me all day long. (Seriously, the designer came in, saw the junk food, had a conniption fit wherein he prayed to the god of the cabbage patch, and promptly had his assistant go out for a veggie tray.) But I've been choosing the healthier options. I actually walked into the break room with the intention of grabbing a Diet Coke and went, "Ooooo bottled water! I'd rather have that!"

I call that a break through.