I remember a time when I used to write every day. I also remember a time when I didn't weigh in at over 250 lbs. Neither of those times was in the last year. Hell, even the last 2. I know there is no direct correlation between my current fatness and my lack of writing, but I am hoping that by writing about this road to the clothes in the back of my closet (and not sweating while using the vacuum cleaner), I will be able to keep myself moving forward.
This isn't the first time I have been down this road, but I honestly feel like this time is my last, and I can't say that about my other attempts. I was doing it for other people, but this time it's all for me. Nobody is in my ear telling me I should do this, it just came to me one day that I don't want to pant and puff my way to my early grave. I love my life, so I want to continue to live it.
I've noticed relationships make me fat. Being comfortable, and loved, and forgiven, praised, and even admired by my significant other for eating like a dude has led me to these stretchy jeans I am currently forced to wear. Don't get me wrong, these bitches are comfortable! I'd just rather be comfortable without the extra flotation device around my waist. And thighs. And neck. My husband loves me just the way I am, but I want to get back to the size I was when he met me...50 lbs ago.
So, here goes my quest to wear regular jeans and less decorative fat pouches. I am planning to lose a butt load of weight. Eighty pounds, or thereabouts. I'd be happy just to be a pound under 200! But to start, I am going in 10 lb increments to keep from spooking myself by this daunting task. I started this change last week, and I am down 3-5 lbs depending on which scale I step on. Today is a rest day as I have exercised every day this week, but tomorrow I will begin journaling my efforts in earnest.
Stay tuned!
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