I blame the pizza.
Now that’s not to say that the pizza was bad. I found it very tasty, with peperoni, sausage, and bacon on it. I can’t blame anyone but myself for eating it. Tony and Guido didn’t come to my house with a pizza and a pistol to force me.
Let me go back to the beginning. My new year’s resolution was to lose thirty-one pounds by sensible dieting and exercise. Until this week I was working on this goal by losing five to six pounds a month. Each week I’d usually lose a little more than a pound. I have the records to prove it.
During my trip to Cuba, I managed to keep this up. Walking through Havana, the heat and the lack of chocolate helped. During my cold when I couldn’t workout, I managed it because I wasn’t hungry. Have you noticed that when you have a cold and a stuffed nose, you can’t taste anything?
Then I ate the pizza. Actually I didn’t eat the entire pizza, only a third of it. Three slices from a large one. (There are two and a half pieces still in the freezer, calling to me, waiting for me.) Now that’s a bit piggy, but not that bad. I looked it up. It’s about 300 calories per slice so that was 900 calories in total.
The next morning I weighed myself. Overnight I had gained 2.5 pounds. Overnight! That’s more than the pizza weighed. Oh well, water retention. I’ll lose it again.
It’s a week later, and I haven’t lost those 2.5 pounds. My entire diet is in ruins. Three weeks of dieting all lost for one night’s indulgence.
But it was good pizza.
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