Having spent the last three and a half years of my life drinking too much sweet tea (dammit, North Carolina), emotionally eating when stressed or missing family and friends (almost constant), and - oh yeah - having a baby (ate for two!), I am a grade-A certified lardass. Even my fat pants are feeling the strain!
I now have to whittle my frame back down to where I was - which was "able to fit comfortably into a size 11 pair of capri pants from Express." (And shutup. At 5'10" and large-framed, size 11 is as close to a size 0 as I'll ever be.) Those light purple capris now hang from my treadmill as a constant reminder of what I was and what I will be once again.
I spent this afternoon wandering the aisles of a local grocery store filling my cart with everything that is wrong with food - bagged salads, fat-free dressings, Yoplait light, water, water, water, 100-calorie packs of snacks, fresh fruit, Slim Fast, more water. YUCK. I almost broke down and cried as I watched my stuff slide down the conveyor belt, through the smirking cashier's hands and into my bags.
GRRR, I hate dieting.
My husband and I had our "goodbye to real food" dinner tonight - takeout from our favorite Chinese restaurant. I guzzled my last Coke (actually, a Coke Zero...what a ripoff.) Contemplated going to ColdStone but decided that I couldn't go to bed with an Oreo Overload and wake up with one cup of peaches, one cup of Yoplait light and a Slim-Fast shake. That would just be cruel.
So I will be blogging thoughout this horrifying endeavor. I am the worst dieter in the world, have ZERO willpower and would normally quit by this time next week. By blogging to you wonderful folks, I might stick to it for a few extra days...lest I have to answer to anyone. :)
Putting on the serious hat for a moment - the true inspiration behind this diet is my daughter. I was talking to my husband about taking Kristina to Disney World in a few years, and the thought crossed my mind that if she asked me to go on a ride with her, my fat dumpy ass might not fit. I can't shake that image, and I'll be damned if I have to look my daughter in the eyes and say, "Sorry, kiddo. Mommy's too fat to go on the ride with you." It will be a cold day in hell when I let that happen.
So anyway. My goal is 60 pounds. Yep, you read that right. I gained 20 pounds a year living in this sweet-tea-soaked state. I start tomorrow (Wednesday, August 20.)
Wish me luck.
Wish Luis and Kristina luck, too. They have to live with me and my wonderful "I'm on a diet" mood.
