I Deserve This.

Friday I stopped just short of falling down dead in the Summit Family Fitness Center. This weekend I used that workout as an excuse for enjoying some delicious desserts. I'm starting to think some of my weight loss may be taking place between my ears.

How can I punish myself with a workout so intense that I couldn't finish it only to dig in peach cobbler and homemade ice cream in the following days? I have a couple theories.

Theory 1, 2 AM James owns the weekend. In the last month, I've spent more than 9 hours working out, none of them on a Saturday or Sunday. Clearly I view weekends as a time for licenced laziness. Clearly, calories don't count on Saturday. Which means desserts are fair game.

Theory 2, I've gotten overconfident in the effectiveness of my weight loss regiment. Is it possible that, after the first two weeks of consistent weight loss, my subconscious decided that my metabolism was now bulletproof? "Surely with all the calories I'm burning with these morning workouts, I could eat this stick of butter without fear of comeuppance."

Theory 3, my lazy butt thinks it deserves to get paid for waking up early and sweating. The wage it seeks? Deliciously sweet dessert foods. Sure enough, looking at that peach cobbler Saturday night or the extremely tempting cake Thursday night, the thought that crossed my mind was, "You know, a few months ago I definitely would have eaten that, and back then I wouldn't have worked out afterwards. Given that A+B=C, I clearly have no choice but to pour this down my gullet."

I'm not sure which of these is my problem. It is likely some grotesque hybrid of the three. The conundrum for me is that I don't want to pretend I'm never going to eat another dessert. I'm going to eat dessert. I just need to limit myself. I don't want to be the old me plus regular sweat sessions. I want to be making consistently healthier decisions...unless we're talking about my mom's cardamon bread...then diet be darned.