When I started my low-carb adventure last month, I had high hopes of dropping huge amounts of weight in a short amount of time. I should know better, but I really envisioned a much slimmer me shopping for a brand-new swimsuit – and even wearing it in public – this summer.

Instead, as of Monday morning, I’ve lost 10 whole pounds.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m really excited about this! It’s a fraction – a small one, at that – of my overall goal. But it’s a step. And there’s no way I can get to that end goal without losing the first 10 pounds.

And, as my friend Jill pointed out, that is 40 sticks of butter. FORTY STICKS OF BUTTER!

Several years ago, I joined Weight Watchers with two girls I worked with. One of my co-workers had lost weight with the program before, and she told me that when she lost a certain amount of weight, she and her friend celebrated by going to the grocery store, putting the number of pounds of ground beef that they had lost in their cart – and then pushing it around the aisles like little kids playing hooky.

As I lost weight that time, I just made a chain of paper clips in my cubicle. I’m not really a “make a scene in the grocery store” kind of girl, I guess.

This time, though? I have even more to lose, and I’ve been trying – and failing – for even longer. So a few pounds seems to deserve great celebration at this point!

In the middle of writing this post, I followed a link to a blog post called, “The Crumbs We Haven’t Been Looking For.” [Thanks, Leigh, for the recommendation!] I love the entire post, but this part really spoke to me:

“I am victory, and I am much smaller than people think. So unless you develop eyes for the puny, you’ll spend your life believing that you’re going nowhere, that I’m distant from you, that you have no reason to celebrate.”

That’s good stuff, right? And besides, forty sticks of butter? That is not puny!

I can’t guarantee that I’ll lose another stick of butter, much less hundreds of them. To be honest, I’ve had at least one leg off the wagon this week [and, again, there were those pesky M&Ms from last week]. But I’m not giving up. I’m choosing my hard.

And I’m celebrating this first 10 pounds.

What small victory are you celebrating today? Share in the comments, so we can celebrate with you!

I’m not going to beat around the bush here. I really want to say that the scale is a fickle bitch. But I don’t usually swear here, so I hesitated to express my true feelings.

When I weighed in this morning and gained a pound and a half instead of losing anything, I shrugged my shoulders and held in my tears. As I’m not a very good actress, my Weight Watchers leader smiled and said, “Oh, I’d love to know what’s going on in your head right now.”

She might have changed her mind if she could’ve heard the whining and swearing that was going on in there.

Here’s the truth, though. The scale wasn’t fickle this week. I was.

Dang it! I hate admitting that!

Two weeks ago, I decided to cut out carbs. Well, for the most part. I ate fruit and a few starchy vegetables (corn, beans – but no potatoes), and my daily cup of yogurt was low calorie but also had some added sugar. And you know what happened? I lost five pounds.

Now, I know that’s not something I could keep up for weeks on end, but going right back to a solid gain the following week was not cool.

I know what happened, though. I saw a little bit of success and got cocky. I thought that after one week, I’d mastered the life of healthy choices and smart habits. And I let myself eat a few carbs.

Listen. I am not saying that carbs are bad. I’m not saying that a high-protein, low-carb diet is smart or right or healthy for everyone. What I’m saying is that, for me, carbs (the fluffy, bread/pasta/potatoes kind) are a trigger. Like that old commercial says (for chips? candy? I don’t know, but it’s definitely a carb.), once I start eating it I just can’t stop.

And I just can’t go there.

So this week’s weigh-in was a . . . wench. It really was. Seeing those ugly numbers on the scale was a slap in the face, and it made me mad. But I can’t really stay mad at the scale. The scale didn’t eat half a basket of tortilla chips – twice. And the scale didn’t perform a magic trick, making an entire bag of chocolate chips disappear.

That was all me.

Back to the low-carb drawing board. And back to the grocery store to buy more fruits and veggies. After all, I ate the asparagus that first week and it wasn’t awful.

[I took a picture of my plate, with my asparagus and grilled chicken, to show you proof of how healthy and awesome I was. But the picture didn't really turn out. But that day? Well, that meal? I was SO healthy and awesome.]

Do you have a trigger food? Something you can’t stop eating once you start?

You know what’s a pain? Pulling grapes off the stems. I mean, a bunch of grapes just has so many stems! And sometimes, I try to be a hero and pull off three at once . . . and you know what happens? I get grapes with tiny stems in my mouth.

The good news is I’ve never said those words out loud. The bad news? That rant has run through my head more than once. In the past week.

I’ve finished four days of eating low carb, and I’ve only been hangry (you know, hungry + angry = hangry) once. I’ve been starving a few times but, shockingly, full a few times, too. My fridge is full of produce, and surprise! I’ve stayed within my Weight Watchers points every single day.

It turns out those pesky carbs were pretty heavy on the points.

So it’s been going pretty well, this attempt at a low-carb diet. But it’s not easy.

I don’t really like vegetables.
Who knew beans have carbs?
Eating carrots without dip makes me gag.
Oreos are on sale this week.
Washing and chopping fruits and veggies takes so long.
I really wanted a Rice Krispy treat at small group this morning.
My husband made spaghetti and I wanted some.
Buying healthy food is expensive.
My daughter keeps eating my yogurt. And my spinach.
Olive oil and vinegar isn’t as tasty as ranch dressing.
My fridge is too full.
Scrambling an egg takes way longer than nuking a packet of oatmeal.
I’m a little tired of grilled chicken.
Did I mention the Oreos?

It’s true. Eating healthy, being healthy is hard. But you know what else is hard? Cramming yourself into an airplane seat and hoping the seat belt fits. Never painting your toenails because it’s just too awkward to bend over that long. Not finding your size in “normal” stores. Being sweaty the entire weekend of Blissdom because walking around the Opryland is more exercise than you’ve gotten in months.

After my friend Jill hosted a Twitter party about healthy eating last night, she told me one of the participants said, “Being fat is hard. Being healthy is hard. Choose your hard.“

She may or may not have chosen to share that with me because I texted her the night before from the grocery store saying, “I’m spending a million dollars on poultry and veggies. Ahh! Potatoes are so cheap!!”

[That quote was from Jamie VanEaton of YourLighterSide.com.]

So I’m going to stick with this healthy thing for a while. It’s hard. And I will probably [definitely] whine along the way. But I’m not ready to quit just yet. And, oh yeah, I’m giving asparagus a try tonight.

What hard are you choosing?