This is it. I am so tired of being fat. And I keep gaining weight (as will happen when you have no self control). I have decided to get back on track, finally. I've had enough.
To prove my committment and to receive the much needed support I am lacking, I have joined the Healthy You Challenge. (Check out the button for more info.) In checking out some of the other participants' sites, it seems like a good thing to be part of.
Don't get me wrong. MB is supportive. He wants me to be less fat. He also wants me to have bigger boobs. And to be a gamer chick. Neither of which is likely to happen. The girls are big enough and last time I attempted to play Halo, I almost stroked out from anger because I couldn't maneuver myself out of the stairwell. Awesome.
I can be less fat, though. Actually, I was at my goal weight when I met MB. Probably why I had enough confidence to flirt with him and give him my number. None of which he remembers due to his intoxication. The poor guy doesn't even remember meeting me. And they say you only get one chance for a first impression. Not if the person you are trying to impress is drunk. Drunk enough to do push ups on command and to hold a sign that says 'I love boobies'. God, I love him.
Anyway, this is the fattest I've been since being with him. Not the fattest I've ever been, that's for sure. But getting dangerously close. The next step is elastic pants and mumus. Not that I'm opposed to either. It's quite a comfortable ensemble. And sexy.
It just allows for too much growth. Did you know you can conceal a whole quart of ice cream under a mumu and no one would know? You could dip into it at your hearts content and no one would be the wiser. That's what I've heard anyway.
So, no more. I'm going to commit to eating healthier. Actually using my exercise/wii room which I painted so beautifully after much lamentation (purple vs red vs teal led to yellow, it was like a year long ordeal). Walking the pup daily (weather permitting - she refuses to be exposed to the rain). And overall just finding happiness with myself again.
This will mean tracking my progress. Which will involve taking a picture of my current fat self. And when I'm ready (or just drunk enough) it may even mean posting said picture here. What better motivation than knowing your fat ass is exposed to all who care to see.
Oh God. I'm sweating. And panicking just a little.
One step at a time, people. One step at a time.