At This Time Next Year...

2011-11-08T08:28:00.000-08:00

I am going to be glad I started again yesterday. One year from now, I hope to look in the mirror and see a whole lot less of me...to the tune of at least 60, but closer to 100 pounds less of me. I am notorious for my obsession with losing weight. I am, unfortunately, not notorious for my ability to stick with a regimen and make it happen.

I was the fatty in high school (about 230 pounds)...the one who didn't get kissed until 17. Then in college I went a little crazy. I lost a crap ton of weight and got down to the 140/150 pound range. For some, that may be the time they pull out their fat clothes, but for me that was my skinniest ever. My friends and I had a very strict routine. Club A on Friday and Saturday nights, Club B on Tuesdays, Club C on Wednesdays and back to Club B on Thursdays. Sometimes we'd hit Club C on Sundays if they were running re-runs on TV. What did we do while we were there? We owned the place (or so we pretended). We danced a lot. Like 5-6 hours a night. Killer cardio like that plus the weight training I did on my nanny job was my magic bullet.

And then I settled down with a boy. We ate out a lot. Movies with extra large tubs of buttered popcorn replaced dancing. I gained a lot of weight.

We eventually broke up, life happened, marriage happened (for which I lost a ton of weight) and then the ever stressful quest to have babies graciously gifted me with 100 pounds back. Yes. 100.

So here I am. I gotta shed this fat suit. There can be no more excuses. The Roughneck is in good shape. My kids are getting older. I don't want to be the fat wife and fat mom. I want to be able to chase my kids without getting winded. As it stands now, I can barely run down my street. True story, one of my asshole dogs got out of the backyard and made a mad dash down the street. I had to chase her and run hard - harder than I have ever run in my life. It was probably 2 minutes of running max. It took me almost 45 minutes to stop panting like a dog in heat, which is a damned shame. I am tired of being the pretty face that isn't really so pretty anymore because it is bigger than a moon and has an extra chin. I am tired of choosing sleep over nookie because I am embarrassed at how I look. I am tired of deleting pictures of myself because I don't recognize the woman in the fat suit. And I really, really want to break up with Lane Bryant.

So what am I doing about this time? Well, I am slightly obsessed (okay really obsessed) with my UP band by Jawbone. It tracks sleep patterns (and here on day 2 of using it, I am a mix of fascinated and wowed by how well it measured my sleep), activity (a bit off and didn't catch my workout yesterday, but that is ok - it still makes me more aware of what I am doing to move this 255 pounds of blubber) and it makes me take pictures of what I am eating. Yeah. Kind of hard to lie about that on a food diary if you have photographic evidence.

I am also using My Fitness Pal. It is a free service that let's you set goals and track calories and exercise.

Since weight loss is only 70-80% of what you consume and 20-30% of exercise, I am also trying to get in at least 30 minutes of working out every day. We have a free gym at work that I plan to utilize while the Roughneck is home since to help with Little Miss and Stinky. My plan for when he is gone is to either use the gym at lunch or finally break the plastic on the Zumba set I *had* to have on 2-day shipping. The one I ordered six months ago and have yet to use...yeah, that one.

So there you have it. Wish me luck.

The Dreaded First Post

2011-11-03T14:55:00.001-07:00

So this is probably the gagillionth time I have started blogging. I can't promise I will keep up with it, but I am going to try.

What will I blog about? My crazy life, my husband aka the roughneck, my awesome kids aka Little Miss and Stinky, being a single Mom half the year because my husband is gone for three weeks and then home for three weeks and my quest to lose 100 pounds...for the 5th time in my life.

If you are sensitive to profanity, sarcasm or snark, this isn't the place for you. I also drink...often. I have a flare for the dramatic and tend to let my anxiety turn the simplest (and often non-existent) thing into a panic attack. I try to keep my glass full, but it is often half empty...that is unless it is my wine glass, in which case it is either very full or getting topped off.

So there you have it.

One Hitch at a Time

At This Time Next Year...

The Dreaded First Post