So, I saw some pictures of myself at Christmas.
I was not happy.
I tried to dress up for a night out and my cute stuff didn't fit.
I was not happy.
I lamented to my girlfriends that "I'M FAT!" And, as any good girlfriend should, they all looked at me like I was crazy and told me I was beautiful. (If your girlfriends don't do this for you, find new girlfriends immediately!) But that did not, in fact, help me fit into my favorite jeans that make my butt look good.
Therefore, I made a plan. I was going to go on a crazy detox liquid diet until I was happy with my figure. After one phone call to my sister, ("you're not going to go on one of your stupid diets, are you?"), I came up with a better plan at her suggestion.
I cried when I signed up; humiliated that my stress-eating had gotten this out of control. I cried when I had to weigh and measure myself. Apparently, I lost all of my baby weight and have been steadily packing it back on. I cried when I saw how many points my beloved cheese fries are. It just wasn't pretty, my friends. I only cried one more time, and that was when my sister texted to tell me that she just joined to help me out. She always backs my play like that.
But, the next day, I stopped crying and started sweating. I began tracking what I ate. I went to the gym every morning and actually, you know, sweat. It felt great. It feels great not to be in a fast food stupor all day. It feels great to be sore from the work-outs. It feels great to be kind to my body; not make incessant demands on it to keep up the ridiculous pace in which I live my life. I'm actually loving it, much to my shock. And, yee-haw, after one week, I've already 3 pounds.
More to follow....
This blog post by K.C. Clifford was a HUGE source of inspiration to me: http://blog.kcclifford.com/2009/12/where-turned-leaves-go