I was working my way through, oh, about 2,400 calories on Tuesday in anticipation of my 9-miler that night, the whole time thinking about how much I was enjoying all this eating.
At the end of the workday, I headed for home looking forward to seeing my little boy, the hubs and then finishing a treadmill run in front of the tube to top it all off. My cell rang. It was Mr. T.
“I’m not sure when I’m going to be home tonight.”
“But I was supposed to run,” I whined. Stupid big Redmond software company that I love normally. You are messing up my plans.
“But, but I’ve been eating like I was going to run 9 miles.”
Laughter on the other end.
Annoying. “It’s not funny.”
“Yes it is,” he laughed. “It’s hilarious, actually.”
But it’s not because the calories I needed to eat went from approximately 2,400 to about 1,400. When I got home, I looked at my tracker and saw that I’d already eaten almost all of my calories for the entire day. I only had 150 left for dinner.
So, yeah, I went over. I tried to limit it, but I was so hungry. I think eating all those calories and then stopping abruptly totally confused my body. It was like, “Need…more…fuel,” even though I didn’t get to do any exercise.
If I don’t lose weight this week, it’s entirely the fault of Mr. T’s employer. So there. Hrmph.