I’ve somehow gained back 3 pounds this week. I didn’t think I did that badly, but the evidence flashes before my very eyes in angry little red digits.

Sometimes I start to lose so rapidly that I get cocky and I think I can behave however I want and still get away with it. This is my body’s way of telling me, “Nope.”

I’ve been night eating.

Not tracking well.

Not always going to the gym.

Drinking soda—dah-dah-DAAAAAAH!

Skipping my afternoon protein drink.

Am I stressed out? Sure. My job is stressful. It’s not going to get better. I need to figure out how to deal with that more effectively. More gym.

Work is only for, what, six more weeks? Then it’s over, and I have the summer to decompress.

It’s a small setback. I’ll be okay. Look at the progress I’ve made:

I’m not too discouraged. I can do this. It’s a small hiccup.

Maybe I should return to WW for a while. I haven’t been going. No particular reason. But it never hurts. I always have the knowledge under my belt of what to do and what not to do that came from WW. Plus, sabotage, intentional or otherwise, and environment in general happens in my life everyday. The tools are useful.

I can do this.

I can do this.

I CAN DO THIS!!!!

I’ve got this.

This is happening.

It’s on.