The Day I Ate an Entire Pizza and Didn't Log It

The Day I Ate an Entire Pizza and Didn't Log It

Last Friday I destroyed a large pepperoni pizza. Solo mission. Three episodes of some Netflix show I don't remember. Two beers. Done.

Logged it? No.

Felt guilty? Actually... not really.

Eight months of tracking. Maybe 8 pounds down. Slow. Boring. But I've figured something out: one bad day doesn't kill two good months.

Old me would've panicked. Skipped breakfast. Punishing run. Self-loathing for a week.

New me? Saturday morning: eggs, toast, normal walk, regular weigh-in. Up 1.2 pounds. Water. Salt. Carbs holding water. Monday? Back to normal.

We moralize food too much. Pizza isn't a sin. Logging isn't penance. It's just... food. Salad days. Pizza days. Average matters.

Mike (PK buddy on this site) texted: "Pizza?" I sent the empty box. He replied: "Respect." No judgment. Just respect. That's the vibe.

Didn't log it because logging felt like confession. It wasn't a sin. It was Friday.

— Alex

P.S. Fat Sully's on Colfax. Thin crust, good sauce. I'll log it next time. Maybe.

P.P.S. If this honest tracking stuff is useful, I'll post more. No schedule though. Work is chaos right now.