These two things obviously do not belong in the same sentence.
I gain AT LEAST 5 pounds every time I go away.
Work trips. Wedding weekends. Vacations to Bora Bora. Yoga retreats. You name it, if I am out of town it is a free for all.
The biscoff cookies on the airplane, “Excuse me sweet flight attendant, do you have any more, my baby might want some?!?”. Like a half a tray of my moms homemade mac and cheese. Not one, but four helpings of bread and butter before the steak dinner. Chocolate martinis post said steak dinner. And it goes on.
And like no one even bats an eye.
“You’re on vacation!” they say! “Treat yourself” I exclaim! “You deserve it” we all agree!
So I go for it. I totally overindulge.
And mid way through the trip I feel like ASS. Heavy. Bloated. Tired. Not my best self.
Take the 5 pounds out of it. I still really feel like shit.
It makes no sense.
It’s like yeah lets all spend a bunch of money on our vacation and then feel like shit half the time. ON PURPOSE. WHAT!!!!
Where in evolution did we all agree that gorging ourselves with food was a normal part of vacation?
So I am challenging myself to LOSE WEIGHT on vacation. WHAT!!!
My heart is literally beating so fast as I type this -- my head is telling me oh shit, no way, are you crazy, click delete, delete delete.
I am apparently sooooo conditioned and soooo hardwired to throw in the towel any and every time I leave the 310.
But I am taking the challenge.
Not for the weight loss sake but for the feeling so fucking awesome while on vacation sake.
Don’t get me wrong, you won’t hear me turning down the best margarita ever on my retreat next week or the homemade pasta in Rome or a NORMAL helping of my moms mac and cheese. It just means I won’t be in a carb coma while on vacation.
I’ll keep you posted.