Why is it that when I feel a little bit like a fatty, I feel least like eating less food or exercising? Shouldn't the fattiness make me want to walk it off or purify it away by drinking 8 glasses of water and eating carrots?
Shouldn't the tightening waistband inspire a "No, thank you" to egg salad, more cheesy potatoes, tart, chocolate, peeps, ham and jelly beans?
I don't know, but it never really does. The motivator to be more healthy and active is always so elusive. I don't know what makes me start, or keep doing it. It kind of just happens in this quiet sudden way. It's never a thought-out, sacrificing way. If I think too much about what I'll be missing if I jump on the "points" wagon it'll be like missing a ski lift and I'll fall on my tush. Oops, waited too long, maybe the next chair...
But man, I've got to count something other than how many See's "pastel creams" I've eaten today. Can I count points tomorrow? Maybe.