S-A-B-O-T-A-G-E

Every once in a while I get the feeling that my other half doesn't like the improvements in my physical appearance.

Oh, I know she likes it, but I get the feeling she felt a lot better when I was a chubby bastard. (Now that I'm just a bastard, and not chubby as well, it's got her rattled.)

She's been doing things lately that seem like she's actively working towards undermining my efforts. She brought me home a coffee the other evening (awesome) and a couple of donuts as well. She knows they are my weakness, and how horribly bad they are for you, and she got upset with me when I said that although I appreciate it, I didn't want them. As soon as I could see the fight starting, I capitulated and ate one.

It's not just donuts, either - it's extra stuff, under the guise of "for the kids" - my house is full of muffins, chips, cheese knots, breads, etc. She says they are just snack foods for the kids to nibble on, but since when do the kids "nibble on" 2 dozen muffins? Why are there three cheese knots when we only have two kids? (And she doesn't like cheese knots.) I avoid eating the stuff as much as I can, but what do you do when it's the only stuff in the house?

I've learned from before that diet is the most important part of weight loss and maintenance. I've also witnessed countless other people fail at their goals because they were not getting the support of the people in their household when it comes to food do's and don'ts.

I don't want to be one of those people.

I think I'll embark on a mission of counter espionage - soon every chocolate chip in the house will be replaced by a stalk of celery. I'll arrange the fridge so you don't have to reach past the jug of chocolate milk to get to the skim, and alarm bells will ring if a donut even enters my front yard.

I have seven weeks until my 8K run in Victoria and eight until the Miracle Beach 10K - my goal is to be ten pounds lighter by then, and I'm going to do it.

I'll be on the lookout for traps and tricks - but if I wake up and she's intravenously pumping whip cream into my arm, I think I might need some help.





Later.