Erg. My spreadsheet has failed me. For some reason, the ingenious formulas I had written do not copy well from week to week. Hence, my totals from last week were only partial totals. I corrected the error, and last week's average calorie count when from 1584 (Good Job!) to 1692 (Try Harder!) Well, dog-gone it, blast it all, phooey! (Please insert more appropriate expletive of your choosing. You are probably better at swearing than I, and I am attempting to adhere to my "family appropriate" setting.)
I should have known, really. I was amazed at how easy it was all becoming - how I did have room for that dish of ice cream after all, AND I wasn't hungry all day, AND I was easily able to recover after splurging on seven (yes, that's 7) beers at a Radiohead concert? The last time this happened was when I added a "dessert" column to my old spreadsheet, but forgot to modify my formulas to include the calories.
If something seems too good to be true, it probably is. For some reason, I am taught this lesson over and over again, but it just doesn't want to stick. Let's just say it's due to my endearing optimism (rather than my thick skull). Cool? Cool.
On the bright side? I am successfully meeting my goals this week. Dude! I know it's only Tuesday, but a gal has to start somewhere! This philosophy has been key to the whole accomplishment - the task of losing 30 pounds? Eek! The task of not eating a cookie for the day? A little easier. Add up all the small steps and you'll climb a story.
Poetic ain't it? Treasure that inspirational nugget, constant reader. I'm going to bed.