Reality Bites

I'm still here, and I obviously need to be here more than ever.

This morning when I went to the gym, Adrián made me get on the scale, even though I broke out in hives and a cold sweat as soon as we got near it.

It turns out eating more veggies doesn't work so well if you slather said veggies in dulce de leche.

"Last time," Adrián announced, pointing at the 71kg mark, "you were here." He slid the weight across the top of the scale and I waited very impatiently for it to level off. 72. 73. Nothing. Finally the scale was level, at 74 kilos.

SEVENTY FOUR KILOS, which means I have gained 3 kilos, or 6.6 lbs, since we arrived in the land of meat and alfajores. Which also means I have to get back into the 150s before I can even think about the 140s.

My Five Stages of Weight Gain:

1. PANIC: Oh shit oh shit oh shit.
2. DISGUST: Argh.
3. DESPAIR: In three weeks I'm going to be a fat 35-year-old.
4. DESPERATION: How little can I eat for the next three weeks?
5. HOPE: Could any of that be muscle?
6. OPTIMISM: At least it wasn't 5 kilos!

I'd bargain (there's always anorexia and bulimia!) but I love food and hate throwing up, so unfortunately those are out. I definitely haven't been walking much around here lately (especially since Spanish classes come to us now) and with the weather getting colder (oh hello, Southern Hemisphere) I just want to sit around in track pants eating cookies. Instead, I'm going to try Sparkpeople for a few weeks to track what I'm eating, and hopefully add a couple more stages to the list:

6. ACCEPTANCE: It's all a project.
7. HOTBODY: 'Nuff said.