I keep on honestly believing that I'll wake up in the morning and want to work out.
That I won't cave and have a huge steak instead of portioning out my 4 ounces.
That I'll have energy.
That I'll have an easy time saying no to the 3rd banana muffin (even if I made them with applesauce and an extra banana instead of the 2/3 cup of butter!).
That I'll feel worthy of the effort.
I did really well for another couple of weeks. I rocked it. And then week three hit and without even thinking I just quit. I didn't have a "breaking point" or anything. I simply did not track, and ate more than I should, and then continued to do so.
Am I so lazy? Do I loathe myself so much? Why won't I try harder?
Why won't I try... now?
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