Give her an inch...

I tend to be able to get away with a lot of moderate carb moments -- like eating a hamburger bun on July 4th along with a couple of super sweet rum cocktails -- and still drop a pound or two sometimes. And that, I suppose, it what causes me to wander off my path and lose my way completely.

After mentally registering the spicy beef salad I had for lunch at a Thai restaurant yesterday, I was thinking I'd had virtually no carbs, so I had room for some in my dinner. The key word there is "some." A burrito (with rice and beans in a tortilla) and chips, isn't exactly "some." And conveniently forgot the appetizers my colleagues ordered that I partook in at lunch (not excessively, but that should have been my limit). So, this morning, my scale bounced UP (by 3 lbs.) instead of down, and I feel like crap. Tired, groggy, dehydrated, you know -- the carb hangover.

I have a lot of trouble remembering that an inch, is just an inch. Not the whole carb aisle at the grocery store.