1/2 Pound of Prime Angus Beef

I went to the nutritionist last night, and I gained 1/2 pound at my weigh-in.

I was immediately frustrated and I spoke to the counselor about it. I said the same thing I thought last week: I'm used to losing 5 pounds every week when I start a diet program, and now I'm struggling. I've been measuring and weighing my food, working out for 30 minutes EVERYDAY, and I don't get what I'm doing wrong."

He said that I certainly shouldn't stop the excercise routine or crash my diet. He put it in great prospective for me by noting that one year from now when I've lost a lot of weight, I won't remember these weeks of no losses. At that time, there will be a definite long-term benefit from making the right changes and choices now, when it seems so difficult and fruitless.

The man's got a point. I have to say that I feel like a different person than I was a month ago. Back then, food ruled my decisions; my every thought was, "What can I eat next?" Now I'm saving a lot more money by bringing my lunch and preparing my own meals (which I've always loved to do, but easily backed out of in a moment of weakness for a quick fix of enchiladas). I'm planning my modes of attack when I'm invited to meals, and I'm taking control of my options.

Yesterday, a couple of ex-coworkers asked me to lunch on the spur of the moment. They wanted to go to Boston Blackie's, a renowned burger bar with a small menu, mostly meat. I researched my options online, and decided on a sliced pork loin sandwich. I ended up eating the meat with some barbecue sauce, tossing the big bun to the wayside, and eating the coleslaw, pickle and tomato. It was a very satisfying lunch. I let the conversation be the most important part of the meeting, and soon I wasn't thinking about what was on my plate - or anybody else's.

I'm doing good. I'm doing okay.