While I haven't actually weighed myself recently, I am pretty sure I succeeded in gaining weight.
Again.
And I haven't been to the gym in so long, I am pretty sure their will be dust on my gym shoes. But, a shopping trip this weekend was just what I needed to give me the kick in the ass I needed to get back into gear. Looking at yourself in a three way mirror as you try on jeans because you have one, yes one, pair left in your closet that still fits, is a nightmare that almost required a trip to a psychiatrist for an anti-depressant prescription and maybe an anti-anxiety pill or two. While that scenario didn't actually happen, I did get a couple of great tops (screw jeans, I can wear yoga pants in public if people can wear pajamas to go grocery shopping in) and then went out with my amazingly supportive husband and proceeded to get drunk. Very drunk.
And in that stage of drunkenness where you think great ideas and find yourself to be the most intelligent person on the planet, I had an epiphany. It's a great one and you will be floored when you learn the secret.
Ready?
Be sure you are ready for the most amazing bit of wisdom ever imparted before you continue reading. It is a change your life kind of knowledge. So be ready.
I am never going to lose weight. At least, as long as I keep drinking Coke by the gallons, eating chips and dipping them in delicious, fatty, cheesy, cheesy dips, and sucking sugar down like it was oxygen in the many varied desserts I create "for the kids" not one pound of fat will be removed from my body. And even if I quit all of those bad eating habits, my jiggly arms and the extra curves in my waist will not go away unless I start working out. You know, like actually go to the gym and break a sweat from more than just bending over to tie my shoes kind of sweat.
So, my drunken epiphany is:
*drum roll*
I need to stop eating shitty food and start exercising. I need to eat more fruits and vegetables (and ketchup doesn't count as a fruit. French fries are NOT vegetables. I know, I know. It was tough for me to hear about, too.) I need to get off my ass and go to the gym and ignore the bouncing Barbie doll and the grunting Hercules and just do my thing to break a sweat and get my heart rate up for longer than it takes to achieve an orgasm (sex is pretty much the only exercise I have been getting lately. While it's fun and so very, very rewarding, it's not really on any physician's recommended health plan for weight loss, I don't think. At least relying SOLELY on sex as exercise isn't recommended.)
I know, I know. You are amazed. Drunk, I am a freaking genius. Things like these great enlightening bits of smart just come to me after the seventh or eighth shot. It's simply amazing I remember it. Thank goodness I let the rest of the bar know what I discovered! (Ok, maybe not the entire bar, but all of our friends at our table certainly got an earful of my amazing drunken intelligence. Let's just say they are still astonished and speechless. I know I am going to hear about it again soon, though. Once they get over my impressive, awe inspiring awesomeness.)
So, yeah, two months later, I am back on the band wagon. No challenges. No threats of having to write disgustingly sweet letters to my irritating and annoying family members that I haven't spoken to in years to keep me "motivated". My motivation is this: I have one pair of jeans that fit me right now. I have TEN pairs of jeans two sizes too small for me. My cheap but oversized ass isn't buying another pair of jeans. Guess I had better work on fitting into those others.
My goal is to try and lose ten pounds by December 1. Fair enough, right? I will try and come back to log how I am doing. But, as you have seen, I am a procrastinator. I rarely stick to anything, no matter how well intentioned (yeah, it's a Kama word) I am in the beginning. But, I promise to try.
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