Last week, I downloaded an app for my phone that counts your calories. I was proud of myself for taking charge and trying to get back on the weight loss bandwagon.
An hour later, one of my coworkers walked around the office handing out free Drumsticks.
I took one, naturally.
Thursday went fine, and I was excited about actually seeing how much I was eating during the day. I was honest, upfront with myself, and calculated each bite.
Then came Friday. I got home from work, didn't feel like cooking, and was drained of all willpower to protest when K suggested we get Chinese for dinner. I reluctantly plugged in a whole sesame chicken meal into the app and grimaced as I watched the total add up.
A few hours later, I snuck a cookie.
Then I snuck the eggroll from dinner.
Then I snuck another cookie.
I plugged all of my wrongdoings into my app, and cringed as it judgingly calculated my remaining calories took a dive into the negative. As in, I had far exceeded my calorie allowance for the day. And instead of accepting responsibility, bucking up and trying to improve, I bargained. And made some creative revisions.
Sesame chicken dinner wasn't really a WHOLE dinner, was it? Because let's face it, who can finish that much food? I recalculated it to be 1/2 cup of chicken and 1/2 cup of white rice. I conveniently forgot the sauce. Who calculates sauce anyways?
I gave K a bite of my eggroll, so that means I REALLY only ate half of it, right?
And the cookies were really nothing more than breakfast cereal, marshmallows and butter. So I mean... cereal is good for you. Cookie.... delete. Cereal.... add.
And thus, my total was brought down to allow me 79 more calories for the day. I went to sleep satisfied.
I think it was a sign from the universe that counting calories is not for me, for two reasons: 1) I am terrible at math. 2) I do not like to be held accountable for the snacks I put into my mouth.