Here was my situation last night.
It was a gorgeous New York early spring evening. The birds were chirping, the forsythia were blooming, I was headed to an important business dinner at one of my current favorite restaurants in New York City, ABC Kitchen. I started thinking about how nice it would be to have a couple of nice fruity drinks when I got there. You know, the kind that have a colorful umbrella hanging out.
I started fantasizing about ABC Kitchen's toasts, the open-faced sandwiches that chef Dan Kluger has consistently hit out of the park since the restaurant opened (the crab sandwich toast is my favorite). I started thinking about the fried chicken, which a friend of mine had raved about a couple of weeks ago.
Smiling broadly every step of the way, I was thinking about all this seriously delicious food I was about to eat. Then reality hit.
It was Thursday, and my weigh-in was started weigh on me. What should I do, I asked myself. Should I just say WTF and go for it, eating and drinking everything I craved? Everyone's allowed a day off on their Serious Caloric Journey, right?
Actually, in this case I couldn't, because the rest of the week had been so bad, caloric journey-wise, that a bad Thursday—compounded by that bad Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday—would end in caloric journey catastrophe. My biggest problem this week? I didn't get on the scale until Wednesday, which for me (and I know everyone's different in this regard) is a huge mistake. I need to jump on Thinner six days a week, every day except Saturday, to know where I stand on any given day. Even given the fluctuations due to retaining water, it's really important to my caloric journey to get on the scale and face the music.
So what did I do at ABC Kitchen? I ordered sensibly, a salad and two vegetables, and lived vicariously through what my dinner mates had. I did make one of them order the fried chicken, and he was more than willing. It was insanely delicious, crispy on the outside, and yet remarkably juicy inside. Dan sent out a ramps toast ('tis the season), which was killer, and a date pizza, which sounds weird but most assuredly wasn't, and his warm house mozzarella. I book bites of all three and even had my friend cut off a small piece of the fried chicken to me. I stayed the course, but man did I have to overcome some truly base impulses.
Given my awful five days of not getting on the scale I am not optimistic about the news that Thinner will bring. Even the remarkable restraint I showed at the restaurant and the decent Wednesday can't make up for the Thinner-less rest of the week. Anyway, let's do it. 226. Up another pound.
Simon's right. Time to change my approach. I'm getting on Thinner every day, even Saturday. That should help.
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