What is guilt?  Some people describe it as the conscious, the little angel on your shoulder telling you the right from wrong.  The definition of guilt, in this sense, is a feeling of responsibility or remorse for some offense, crime, wrong, etc., whether real or imagined. 

With the holidays and celebrations in full swing I have been consumed with guilt.  Diet guilt.  In the past I would careen of the macro wagon face first into a pile of deep fried sugar and bliss.  I would go dark and track nothing.  Tracking nothing made me feel like I didn’t have to look at my transgressions later.  I wouldn’t have to wake up in bed and face what I brought home.  Mike begged, pleaded, cajoled, demanded, and eventually coaxed me into not going dark.  That if I fell off the wagon to at least hold myself accountable.  If was going to hop in bed with bad dietary decision I better wake up and face them in the morning.  I was doing a really good job.  These bulking macros made my life awesome and I could get just about anything in my macros.  It was awesome.  And then, like a kick the face - HOLIDAYS. 
This was from Thanksgiving.  Christmas looked similar.

I always try to start with the best intentions.  At home it’s not so bad I can control what I eat.  The kids are used to me weighing my food and the sweets can be hidden from my sight relatively quickly. But go out to a large gathering and there is a dessert table that puts the main course to shame.  Anything you could dream of wanting is there.  When you bring your scale (because you already had a holiday fall out the day prior and you are trying really hard to be good) you feel like you are being stared at or judged.  And then because your mom loves you she packs all the outer edges from the rice crispy treats she cut into snowflakes just for you because they are your absolute favorite.  Once you break the seal on those rice crispy treats you might as well kiss all those
good intentions goodbye.  I would love to track how many servings I ate of those but I was shoving them in my face by the fistful and My Fitness Pal doesn’t have “fistful” or “ass ton” as a serving size option I am afraid.

The stress of life, holidays and the like, coupled with the opportunity to drink cider with my sister was too good to pass up.  And so not only do I have one Achilles heel struck (rice crispy treats) I had the other as well (2 Towns and girlie beers).  Of course the only recourse after all of that was drive through on the way home.  It’s ALWAYS a sound decision after beers….ALWAYS.   Try as my husband might to discourage me I was persistent about my never ending, undying love, and need for Carl’s Junior’s Western Bacon Cheeseburger (there are frickin’ onion rings on that thing people AND bacon!!).

I do feel guilty about it.  I should of tracked it.  All of it.  I should of looked back today and cried about all the carbs I murdered.  I do not regret the fun that I had with family.  The chance to cut loose a little bit.  But I must remember next time to track my binge and face my dirty secret in the morning.