I took Baby Blue home over Thanksgiving to visit my family. I should’ve been worried about all the food I’d be tempted to eat, all the sweets, that big turkey dinner we’re all obliged to overdo, margaritas with my friends.
But I wasn’t.
I packed a couple apples in my carry-on, along with some crackers and turkey (all of which was gobbled up in a desparate moment of hunger while trying to entertain Baby Blue on the plane). My family surprised me with a party on day two of our stay and I ate half of the BBQ pork sandwich and half a piece of carrot cake (my favorite). I baked my mom’s homemade rolls and made cookies with my nephew — both of which I had to eat SOME, but tried to do so in moderation. I went out with my girlfriends one night and enjoyed that dinner AND a margarita in honor of my mom (it was a small one). I went for a few walks (one in freezing rain) and chased my toddler around the house for six days. I made a salad the day we prepared to leave and found a deli in the airport that made turkey sandwiches (I held the mayo).
I didn’t do anything drastic. I didn’t freak out. And I lived life. So far, the scale hasn’t reprimanded me. Stay tuned.