Generally speaking, I don’t get too worked up about Friday. Sure, I like the weekend – it’s nice not to have to go to work for two days. But I like my job, so I don’t get the same sort of emotional “I’ve escaped for two whole days!” feeling that some people get. Honestly, it’s nice to not feel like that.
But I am so glad that I’ve hit the end of this week. As you might imagine, last weekend wasn’t especially restful for me. You know, with my mother in the hospital and all. And that managed to set the tone for what has felt like an especially unsuccessful week. I’ve gone over my calorie budget most of the week, I’ve struggled to get my walking in and I haven’t even attempted my other exercises, and generally I feel like I’ve been struggling just to get through the week. And then I slept through my alarm this morning and barely made it to work on time.
At this rate, I think I’ll be lucky if I haven’t gained weight.
So, yeah. While I know it’s purely psychological, and that nothing really changes over the weekend, I’m looking forward to the weekend. To getting a rough week behind me, and starting fresh. Because, unsuccessful week or not, I’m not letting this derail me. If I’ve gained weight, I’ll shout at the scales for a bit and fume and then get on with getting myself back on track. And if I haven’t? Well, I’ll be surprised for a bit and then I’ll get on with getting myself back on track. Minor setbacks aren’t the end of the world, and they’re certainly no reason to give up on my goal.