At 3:38 a.m. last night (or yesterday morning, whichever you prefer), I knew I passed my craving for the night. I looked into the fridge a few times, saw a leftover piece of cake from one of the Chinese bakeries we went to in Chinatown last Thursday, and was thinking about that. I sat at the computer and I thought about a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. But I didn't bother with either. I conquered those cravings for one night.
Christ, I sound like a weight-loss success ad. I never wanted my attempt at weight loss to sound like that. But it was the first night, over at that point, and I felt good about it.
Now it's 3:01 a.m. and I've passed the second night. It was bad. I didn't think of Cheez-Its, but Meridith brought home a leftover Subway sub, and, well, right now I've forgotten what else, but I remember my mind being a demanding bitch. I stuck with two cups of tea. One was Twining's Lady Grey, and the other was Bigelow's Lemon Lift. I vowed to combat those cravings with tea and the tea was only a partial help. The rest was willpower.
So far, I've only eaten what I need to eat. Only something when I get up (which is lunchtime for others, but breakfast for me), and at dinner. No snacks. Not anymore. I've done too much of that.
I wish I could write better about this small achievement. But it's already 3:01 a.m. and there's a DVD I want to finish and send back to Netflix so I can get a new one by Friday. And I wish that I had done better the last time I tried to diet. If I had, a second night would have been so long ago in memory.
