Since moving down here I’ve found it harder and harder to be good in the food department.

When I first arrived I was all about counting points and being somewhat good.

But then as time went by I relaxed a little and it became about reducing the amount of damage I was going to do by doing that.

Then, sadly, I just gave up trying. I ate what I wanted when I wanted and now I’m seeing the results of that. I see the chubbier chin and the pants are getting tighter.

The thing about this is that I know all too well that I can no longer afford to be so relaxed with my food intake. I know that in order to lose weight or even maintain weight (which I just proved I am not ready to do yet) I need to count points.

So tomorrow I start again. Tomorrow I have to get back in to counting every single little tiny itty bitty bit of food and drink I put in my mouth.

No matter how much I can’t be bothered.

Because more than not feeling like doing it, I don’t want to go back there. I thankfully still remember that feeling of looking in the mirror and hating the person looking back at me. I remember how desperate I felt and how much I hated walking out the front door on a daily basis.

Tomorrow is a new day.