When Carlos and I were struggling to actually have our schedules connect in December and when I quit in January, I sort of let go. I ate whatever I wanted and quit working out, and I knew I gained weight but didn't dare step on the scale. The last couple of weeks again have been harder to get to the gym, and when I'm not there 4 or 5 days a week, I sort of just ... fail. Eat whatever and don't move much.
Now, I know I lost some inches while working out with Carlos in January because my yoga pants got a bit baggy. They still are, which is awesome. But I know I have to hit the gym and eat much better than I tend to when I'm not at the gym. And while a pound of muscle does not weigh more than a pound of fat, it is true that the pound of muscle is smaller than the fat. I can definitely tell a difference in my muscle tone, especially in my thighs and upper arms. So I know I've gained some muscle and shed some fat because of how my clothes are fitting (or not fitting as the case may be). So when I stepped on the scale last night at the gym and was 2 pounds heavier than I was in November, I gave myself a pep talk and am trying not to focus on that number on the scale.
The struggle is making the good choices every day, and making sure I remember that I am worth spending the time on myself at the gym. Even though the kids are my priority, I can't take care of them if I'm dead. Which is why I will be going to the gym early again tonight and then going to SEPs at Runner Girl's school, and I will take the baby if she stays up late again. So, yay for a plan. Now to make a plan for dinner in the middle of the craziness! I think I'll go throw some chicken in the crock pot.