Another failed night, another tired morning.

Even though I've had 9 hours of sleep altogether, my head is still heavy and disposition remains "I'm ok. Tired, but ok." And I'm starting to figure out why.

Everything yesterday was going so well. No pop, and I was keeping within my caloric limits..until dinnertime.

For Daniel, I made steak and mashed potatoes. For Brennan and myself, I made baked Tilapia filets and boiled green beans (the good frozen kind).

Everything was going great until...I mashed the potatoes. Oh the smell. Nothing like fresh, creamy, homemade mashed potatoes, made with whole milk, butter, and love.

Two servings of my fatty fiend later, and I'm writhing in guilt, trying to find some way to excuse it or make it better.

"Well, the article DID say to start the first two weeks just avoiding sweetened drinks, so you're fine, old gal."

Bull hockey, self.

There must be some scientific backing on my next point.

1) I overloaded on fats in the evening, therefore
2) I get a lousy night of sleep, and am now tired, and will remain tired throughout the day.

Any citations on this subject would be greatly appreciated.

Maybe if I set goals for myself today...Yesterday, upon some calorie count site browsing, I found (with my specifications) that in order to lose 1-2 lbs per week, my caloric intake should be no more that 1,314 per day.

Last night, I'm pretty sure I went about 500 over that. The shame is overwhelming, and no where near the worth of those creamy mashed potatoes.

Did I mention that I treated myself to one of those evil Little Debbie's Chocolate Christmas Tree cakes? After the aforementioned potatoes?  The only thing that is assuaging my guilt is knowing that I can do better today.

I will do better today.

Starting...now. I'm off. About to guzzle down a bottled water and a 130 calorie bowl of instant oatmeal.