(It’s me. I’m my own worst enemy).

See, the problem I was having is that I couldn’t tell when I was full. Sounds weird, I know. But there was no bloating or icky stuffed feeling to warn me, so I’d nibble a little more. Eventually I stopped myself because common sense told me to (I do have common sense. It’s just slow and likes to pick its battles). I still lost weight- about 1.5 last week, but I wasn’t exercising yet because of the exhaustion. I had only been home a week at that point and nothing bad was happening and I figured I’m ok.

Naïveté, thy name is Sweetpea.

It’s SUPER BOWL SUNDAY, Baby!

I made guacamole, chicken wings, hot pretzels, plus crackers and dip. And I made my family leave the food in the kitchen, instead of bringing it to the living room as we would have normally done. That way, it wasn’t sitting in front of me, taunting me. For my treat, I cheated with a fruit protein shake instead of a chocolate one. (Try and contain your excitement, please).

Well, I MADE the guacamole didn’t I? It’s only right that I taste it before serving it to others. And the chicken wings were baked, not fried, so how bad could they be?

Fast forward to 3am:

My Lord, why has thou forsaken me?

Lord: Because you were a dumbass.

Stomach cramping, nausea, the feeling that I would soil myself if I didn’t make it to the bathroom on time (which I did, thankfully). And thereby followed the WORST bout of...ummm...what should I call it? Blowing chunks? Chundering? Montezumas Revenge? Coupled with some seriously awful...umm...well, you get it.

I think part of the problem is that I expected to feel symptoms immediately after “going too far”. As though an alarm would sound, telling me to shut my cake hole. But that’s not how it works.

It takes anywhere from 6-8 hours for most people to complete the digestive process. That means that I ate the last bite around 8pm, so 3am is when my penance would begin. I never thought about it that way.

What does this mean? Well, now it’s time to tow the line because I know now that what I feel right away MEANS NOTHING. So I’m fine ten minutes after stuffing my gullet— it doesn’t mean that all is well in Tummy Town. Patience is a virtue much like common sense: it shows up when it feels like it.

I need to think of my stomach as one of my children: small, delicate, obnoxious, but deserving of my patience. Also, I can’t just leave it at the fire station.

Almost forgot: I managed to walk for 20 minutes yesterday. Slow speed, no intervals...just wanted to get into the swing of it. I’m using the C25K (Couch to 5k) app in tandem with MyFitnessPal and my FitBit. Basically, I can’t scratch my keyster without it registering somewhere in the cloud. I’ve always used MFP and my FitBit, but the jury is out on C25K— I’ll keep you posted.

And lastly, I wanted to thank everyone who has been kind enough to comment on my blogs. I don’t always respond, but please know that I appreciate your insights and input.

Now if you’ll excuse me,it seems Montezuma’s Revenge is a two-part production.