Picking up the pieces

It's been three days since Dobie left us and I have to tell you...it hasn't been easy. Not when it comes to adjusting. Not when it comes to seeing my stepdad's face. Not when it comes to walking into their home and not being met by a cold nose nudging into my arm, my legs, my anything...

It also hasn't been easy when it comes to my diet.

I've been a nutritional black hole since Saturday morning. I was too upset to eat on Friday night but by Saturday morning, when the ravenous physical pangs of hunger hit, I was all about eating whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted, and however I wanted. McDonald's for lunch, nachos and baby back ribs for dinner...Sunday wasn't much better...it was my cousin's birthday and the whole family got together. I didn't indulge in the cake, but it was pretty hard there for a while to pry the guacamole out of my hands...and the wine? Well, let's say my uncle is a wine distributor. Between my love of wine and my desire to avoid all talk about Dobie (because of course, my family asked), I drank...oh, maybe, 5 glasses? Yipes.

But I put an end to the weekend pity party as soon as I woke up today. Figuring that I've already blown past my weekly allotment of flex points, I've realized it's going to take some work and planning to make sure I only eat my 29 points per day. And since I probably ate more than my allotment of flex points, there will be no skipping out on exercise. I told myself if I got my act together today, maybe by Saturday, I'll be lucky to maintain my weight from last week.

But talk is talk and midway through the afternoon, I was hit with one of those waves of pain that just shows up out of nowhere. I can be sitting there, working on a project or reading a book and it just pops into my mind that he's gone...and suddenly, I'm sad all over again. Combine that with a dull craving for chocolate I had been successfully fighting to that point and I was on the verge of disaster.

But then I stopped...and pulled out my class schedule for Pilates...turns out there was a class starting in less than 15 minutes. I knew if they had an opening, I could make it. I called, there was lots of space, I went, figuring it'd take my mind off the pain for a little while.

I was right. The Monday afternoon class is a lot less full than my regular Wednesday morning class, so my instructor was able to give all five us real one-on-one torture. No one got away with slacking. I was working hard. I was sweating. I wasn't thinking about anything else...it was just what I needed.

I felt good when I got home...because I'd avoided stuffing myself with empty calories. Instead, I'd sought relief in exercise. I need to start doing more of that.

This weekend did teach me though that no matter how much progress I make, I will always be an emotional eater. I will never be one of those women who doesn't want food when the world is crashing down. But I need to learn how to manage it better. If not, I'm going to be sunk...