Life is short. And I've wasted enough time in my life hating my body.

For the first time in many, many years, maybe even in my entire life, I am starting to feel comfortable in my skin.

It's a choice I've made. It doesn't come naturally to me to love this body, especially since it's so torn up.

Saggy breasts, hanging skin, stretched out belly button, stretchmarks, cellulite, fat everywhere.

There's not much to love about it and I've spent a great deal of time being horribly ashamed of it.

I have avoided people and places because of it, I've made excuses why I can't go here or there because of this shame.

I've worked very hard to try to improve this body. I want it to be healthy, to be in shape and to last me a very long time. And that wasn't going to happen by hating it and not taking care of it.

Enough is enough, I said to myself and I kicked things up a notch. I started going to the gym 5 nights a week. I would have much rather stayed home, sat on the couch and watched TV with my family. Infact? Sometimes? I cry when I have to leave. I cry and I cuss about how much I hate having to work out when there are skinny bitches out there who can eat whatever they want and not get fat like me! I hate it. Hate it. Hate it.

I told myself I didn't have to like it, that it was ok to hate it, but it had to get done. I had to go to the gym, even when I didn't feel like it and that one day, it would pay off and that it would all be worth it.

Pounds started to fall off, clothes started to get bigger, inches were disappearing.

Then, the compliments started coming.

"You look great! What are you doing?"

"Are you losing weight?"

My Mother in law called me sexy. SEXY!

I can honestly say, the payoff has finally arrived and the payoff is this.

I no longer feel "Shame."

Infact? I actually feel proud of myself.

Is my body where I want it to be? No. I'm still overweight. There are still things I hate about it, there are things I will always hate about it, but, I am not ashamed of it.

I've worked so damn hard to get where I am at and I am allowing myself to take pride in my accomplishments. I don't usually allow myself to do that, because, I don't feel I have much to be proud of. But, you know what? I could have very easily not done anything about my weight because DAMN IT, it is overwhelming and it's hard to imagine ever getting to where you want to be when you're over 200 pounds. I felt hopeless and unable to do it. I would find myself so envious of people who were losing weight. I didn't think I had it in me to do what they had done.

If there is anyone out there who feels that way, let me tell you, I know how that feels. Oh my God, I know. I remember feeling like throwing up at the thought of going to the gym because I was so out of shape and Oh! How The Fit people would laugh at me. Then, I realized that it wasn't ABOUT ANYONE ELSE BUT MYSELF.

I had to stop caring about what I loooked like at the gym. It didn't matter, I was there for my health, and that wasn't anything to be ashamed of.

I finally, FINALLY realized that I was worth the effort.

Now, I find myself taking dance class 3 times a week. Me! In dance class. I'll never forget the first time I took it. It happened by accident that I ended up in that class, and when the instructor said "Tonight, I teach hip hop" I headed for the door. Hell to the no on THAT. But there was a lady there who convinced me to stay. "It's fun! And who cares if you mess up? Just relax and enjoy it."

"But! I have no rhythm! And my ass! It will shake! And my boobs, dear GOD, my boobs!"

Then, I took a deep breath and said to myself "You're here to burn calories and lose weight, not to be a dancer. JUST DO IT."

Now, I go every week, three times and just last week, the instructor pulled me and my cousin aside and said "You two are the best students I have. I can't explain it, but having you in my class is a joy, you make me very happy."

Yeah. I cried and let me tell you why. In the past, I wouldn't have even tried it for fear of looking stupid, or messing up, or thinking I couldn't do it because I was fat and I suck. But, I didn't give into that negativity and I just freaking did it. Now, I love it and it shows, because my dance makes people happy.

Ha! Ha! Haaaaaaaa!

I don't even know where I'm going with this anymore, but I know I'm getting more excited as I type and I want to tell every person out there who wants to lose weight but is feeling hopeless to please, PLEASE, stop listening to the lies that you can't do it, or that you're not worth it, or that you can never reach your goal.

You can and you will, you just have to decide that you're worth it.

Who do I think I am? A motivational speaker or something? God.

The Cheese. It lives.

Yesterday I had a mini melt down at my weight watchers meeting.

I went fully expecting to lose at LEAST 5 pounds. (because, it's been 2 weeks since my last weigh in and I had weighed myself at home the previous Monday and MY scale said I had lost 3 since the last weigh in, so, I was expecting at LEAST 2 more pounds, to make the 2 week total FIVE pounds which I realize is confusing but pretend like you're following along because I'm too tired and FREAKED OUT to try to figure out a way to say it so that it makes more sense) I step on the scale and WW lady goes "You lost! 2.2 pounds!" And, I said "What the HELL?" And she said "Excuse me?" And I said "I'm pissed. I've been working MY ASS of 5 nights a week at the gym, sticking to my points (no cheating whatsoever) and ONLY 2.2 FREAKING POUNDS IN 2 WEEKS?" And she said "Well, that's right on target, you're supposed to lose 1-2 a week blahblahblah" And I said "I'm still pissed off." And so, she said "Well, you can talk to the leader if you're that upset, maybe she can help you."

So, I walked up to the leader. "How are things going?" She asked. "Not good" I replied. "I've been working out for 2 hours a night 5 days a week, sticking to my points, drinking all of my water (which is TORTURE FOR ME, PEOPLE I HATE WATER.) And I only lost 2.2. I wanted more, I expected more and I'm disappointed."

"You are right where you need to be, you're doing great. blahblahblah."

And then she gave me some speech about how I am expecting too much too soon and then she said "You tend to be hard on yourself, don't you? You like to beat yourself up, don't you?"

"Um... that's what people tell me."

"Yeah, I can tell. And I don't even know you."

She's right. I am too hard on myself and I promised her I'd change my way of thinking and that I wouldn't give up because I realize that the weight IS coming off, even if it's not as fast as I'd like it to come off.

The entire way home, I cried, which, I realize is stupid because AS LEAST I'M LOSING, but I felt overwhemled. I have come so far, but I still have a long way to go and the thought of how much work I still have ahead of me makes me want to puke. I hate that my evenings have to be spent in the stupid gym, sweating and looking like a jackass trying to do such things as THE RIVERDANCE and weight machines without ripping farts because apparently? Weights give me gas.

I hate that EVERY MORSEL OF FOOD that goes into my mouth has to be accounted for and written down.

I was still pissed off when I got home and ready to say "Screw it! I give up! I'm done, over it, The Fat Wins!"

But I had this really great idea to pull out some old clothes, put them on and get a little perspective of how far I've come, regardless of what the damn scale says.

Man, that was the greatest idea I've had in a long time.

Remember this picture from Gabby's birthday party in August?

Ah, the Spare Tire. Lovely.

Well, here I am in that same outfit this morning.

The Spire Tire is still there, but LOOK! It has shrunk!

And the clothes? Theyare baggy.

It felt so good to realize that, hey, yeah, the pounds may be slow in falling off, but the all of the hard work I am putting in is paying off, it IS showing and so, I will keep going, even if it is FRUSTRATING AS HELL.

Because, I will not let The Fat win. VICTORY WILL BE MINE, OH LUMPY THIGHS!

(I am dork! Hear me roar! D-O-R-K)

(p.s. I'm thoroughly enjoying your voice mails. Keep them coming! 206-202-1345)

I really can't think straight right now because I am on "The Cabbage Soup Diet." I'm lightheaded, I have a headache, I'm bitchy, I want to cut people and I would LIKE A CARAMEL FRAPPUCINO.

Also? I think I'm going to puke. No! I KNOW I'm going to puke.

But, I don't care because I've lost SEVEN POUNDS since Friday.

S-E-V-E-N.

I know, it's all "water weight". Whatever. It's pounds gone and I'm now only a few pounds away from the 170's and considering I was stuck in the 190's for months, being so close to the 170's feels GOOD.

But the Cabbage Soup Diet can SUCK MINE. It's disgusting, it's demonic, it's from the pit of hell.

Yesterday, I went to a lunch for my mother in law's birthday. There was prime rib! And cheese potatoes! And rolls! AND THERE WAS CHOCOLATE CAKE WITH BANANA FILLING! And I couldn't eat any of it. All I could eat was the salad, without dressing, but I cheated and put a wee bit dressing because lettuce without dressing? PUKE.

Today, I get to eat bananas and fat free milk. All day long. And soup. The disgusting, nasty soup.

I will puke.

But who cares! I lost 7 pounds!

I realize I'm breaking a promise I made to myself to "never go on any crazy diets ever again." But... I got sick and tired of being stuck at the same weight. (And? We're going to Laughlin next weekend and I wanted to drop a few because I plan on dropping to the floor and doing The Worm at some point in the night and man, it would help if my boobs were a little less huge. Sue me.)

Two weeks ago, I threw one of the Greatest Tantrums Ever.

I had been running every day. RUNNING, people. I hate to run. I despise to run. Always have. And I hate it more now then I have ever have in my life because I am 190 pounds and I'm pretty sure more than half of that 190 is boob and ass weight and boobs and ass HURT when you run. But I was like "Screw it, I'm going to run! Because I want to be thin and healthy again! And I want to push myself to do something I normally wouldn't do! Yeehaw!"

When I first started, I could only run a short distance. But everyday, I'd push myself a little farther. I'd find "marks" and try to push myself past a new mark everyday. "Just go to that light post and then stop!" I'd tell myself, but when I'd get to that light post, I'd see a tree "You can make it to the tree, then you can stop!" Then I'd pass the tree and see a crack in the sidewalk "You can make it to that crack, then stop!" And everyday, I'd go a little farther. Eventually, I was able to run the entire trail and yes, I was so proud of myself.

But, guess what? The scale WOULD NOT MOVE. I've been battling the 190's for MONTHS NOW. What in the hell is wrong with my body that it refuses to STOP WEIGHING 190 POUNDS?

So, it broke me and I quit! QUIT! But not without throwing The Tantrum.

And guess who got to witness The Tantrum? And try to talk me down from The Tantrum?

That's right, the man I fart on during sex!

First, the tears, then, the screaming and carrying on "I'm so SICK OF THIS! I CAN'T GET OUT OF THE 190'S AND I DON'T UNDERSTAND! I run every fucking night, and I'm eating healthy and yet, my body doesn't want to give it up, man. I can't do it anymore. I hate running, DESPISE IT, but I'm doing it to try to lose weight and it's not working, so WHY IN THE HELL AM I DOING IT? I mean, if I'm going to stay fat, even though I'm running every damn night, what's the point? I'll just sit at home and lay on the couch and weigh 190! THAT'S WHAT I'M GOING TO DO! Screw running! Screw my body! I CAN'T DO THIS ANYMORE!"

And, so, I stopped running. And guess what? I gained 4 pounds! And that pissed me off. REALLY BADLY. So, I took it out on those 4 pounds and went to the gym. And this morning, I decided to weight myself again to see "What's up". I braced myself for the worst. But guess what? The worst did not happen! THE BEST HAPPENED! Because...lOOK!

(and you will shut it about how FILTHY my scale is because, its' just a scale and I have enough shit to clean around here so that's the last thing I'm worried about, but damn, it really IS filthy, huh?)

ONE. EIGHTY. NINE (point 5, but still, NOT ONE NINETY!)

You have no idea how exciting this is for me. It's been YEARS since I've seen the 80's and I finally feel like the curse of the 90's is broken and there is no looking back because I will never, EVER be that weight again (ha! ha! watch, next week I'll be crying about how I'm 190 again because I ate so much Boo-fay at Vegas!).

But for now, I will celebrate! Good bye 190's! You were an asshole and I have always hated you and I will not miss you at all, you stubborn bitch!

Everytime post pictures my weight loss (or lack thereof, lately), I'm always wearing my "fat pants".

The obvious reason that I take my "progress" pictures in those ugly pants is for the dramatic effect. "Look how baggy these pants that once snuggled my ass now fit me!"

But, as much as I hate to admit it, a part of me likes that I can hide my current body behind those big, baggy pants. The truth is, I still have a great deal of weight to lose, and while I'm proud of the progress I've made, I'm somewhat ashamed that, 15 months after having given birth, I'm still THIS overweight. And, seriously, the way my ass "POPS"? A LITTLE embarassing. (I wasn't lying when I said it needs own social security number.)

A few people have said things like "there's no way you still have 45 pounds to lose!" And, as much as I wish it were true, the fact is that The Fat is very well hidden in The Fat Pants.

So, today, in the tradition of "keepin' it real" around here, I will expose The Truth of The Fat for all of The Internet (and by "all" I mean the few people who still read this!) to see.

(I'm actually shaking a little as I upload because OMG! You're going to see The Truth. Can you handle The Truth?)

It's that time again. Time where I update The World Wide Web on my weight loss journey.

Everytime I do it, I open myself up to mean, hurtful comments, I open myself up to judgements and criticism, I open myself up to embarassment and shame.

But, I also realise that I have a great deal of support from the people who read this, and that is more important to me than the negativity.

Writing about my struggle with weight, about the ups and the downs, the highs and the very VERY lows, about my shame, about my failures, about my triumphs, helps get me through this.

I recently joined weight watchers again, because, well, I wasn't making it on my own anymore. I had lost all hope that I'd ever lose The Fat. Combine that with how shitty and sick I've felt, I'd pretty much given up hope.

But, I got fed up with letting the sick, the pain and The Effin' Fat win. So, I renewed my commitment to getting healthy. I've started eating healthier and, in spite of feeling like shit, I've been dragging my ass (notice I did not PREface "ass" with "fat"?! I want you to notice that because THAT is progress, people.) to the gym every night.

First week back to WW and I'm down another 6.5 with FOURTY FIVE to go. (ok, it actually should be 55, but that's looking mighty impossible, so, 45 it is.) I'll admit I felt somewhat "weak" for going back to weight watchers again. I wanted to do this "on my own" so I could say "I did it without any help! All by myself!" But I "got a grip" because, man, we ALL need help sometimes. There's NOTHING WRONG WITH GETTING HELP. (And yes, I'm still trying to convince myself of that because I have "issues" with asking for/accepting help. Then again, I have "issues" with EVERYTHING.)

I just uploaded recent pictures to The Shrinking Woman set.

I've added yet another photo to the The Shrinking Woman set on Flickr.

I should shutup about my weight already, but it's such a huge part of my life and what I'm dealing with right now, that I can't. Having this public forum to write about it, to post pictures of it and yes, to get encouragement and feedback about it has been insturmental in keeping me from giving up.

And trust me, I want to give up. Especially after last night.

Last night, I was "re-measured" at the gym and it wasn't good. She took away the three and a half inches I was originally told I lost, because it was only showing as 3 inches and then, she decided that she was only going to give me ONE INCH. She says I have a "natural curve" (see :"spare tire") and it's hard to get an accurate measurement. Talk about a let down. And talk about wanting to say "fuck it all to hell I'm eating a cinnabon and refuse to spend another fucking minute at the stupid, worthless gym!"

In the past? When I was "skinny" and when I would lose lots of weight in short amounts of time? I would do it the unhealthy way. I'd take buttloads of diet pills. I'd starve myself. I'd take boxes of laxatives. I'd do whatever it took to get skinny.

I don't want to do that this time because I don't want to die at 40. I want to be thin and attractive, but, at the same time, I don't want to die or get sick trying to achieve that goal.

However, after a year of trying, I'm getting pissed off to the point of wanting to just stop. I'm crying as I type this, that's how pissed off I am. I look at the pictures and I know that it definitely is coming off, but IT'S TAKING SO DAMN LONG AND I DON'T THINK I CAN KEEP DOING THIS ANYMORE.

I won't give up. I refuse to give up, but I WANT TO. I'm sick of being the fat girl. I'm sick of being ashamed. I'm sick of my thighs rub together. I'm sick of a roll of fat jiggling up and down when I walk. I'm sick of telling my husband "HELL NO I won't take a shower with you because I'm so embarrassed and so ugly and I'll cry the whole time because of how ugly my body is and HOW DO YOU NOT THROW UP WHEN YOU LOOK AT ME?"

And? I'm sick of working my ass off and seeing such SLOW results.

I'm pissed off today and not feeling very positive about this whole weight loss journey.

Yesterday, I decided to join yet ANOTHER gym.

It's what I like to call a "Generic Curves."

It's called "Slim and Tone" or, like the big, red letters that light up says "30 minute workout for wimmims".

You see, my friend "won" a "30 day free membership" in a "random drawing." Which is SO FUNNY and totally NOT a coincidence that I had "won" a "30 day" "free" "membership" a month earlier. I didn't "cash in" on my "prize" because I'm a "flake."

It's a total scam, because, you have to make an appointment with a "trainer" for your first visit, and after they teach you how everything works, some chick sits down to tell you about the program and then BAM! Out of nowhere, they're all "Normally, we charge THIS amount, but if you join RIGHT THIS VERY MINUTE we'll only charge you THIS much!"

Suddenly, it doesn't feel like a "free" anything, but more like "HAHAH SUCKAAAAAAAAHHHHS, WE GOT YOU BECAUSE YOU KNOW YOU LOVED IT AND WANT TO JOIN NOW."

Lucky for them, I'm really fat and desperate. My friend, however, is not at all fat, but she wants to tone up. If I wasn't fat and desperate, I would have stood up and shouted "You're all a bunch of scheming LIAAAARRSSSSS" instead of running to the car to get my checkbook and think of a way to tell Tony "Hey, guess what? I joined ANOTHER gym!" without him revoking my "get out of the house free before cooking dinner, woman" card.

Tonight we went and did our first official workout.

The first 5 minutes was all fun and games to me.

"hahaha my boobs are bouncing!"

"hahahaha MY THIGHS!"

"hahaha It's the chicken dance song!"

"hahahhaa I'm taking my pulse!"

But DAMN. It stopped being funny real quick. I became painfully aware of the fact that "OH MY GOD, I'M GOING TO HAVE TO DO THIS FOR, LIKE, MONTHS BEFORE THERE ARE ANY RESULTS!"

I also became aware of the fact that bouncing boobs start hurting after a few trips to the face and back and? Having to HOLD THEM DOWN with your hands whilst jumping up and down is slightly humiliating.

I say "slightly" because the truth is I have no dignity. I've dry humped a roll of carpet in front of a group of people to get a laugh, people. Flapping tits isn't really that big of a deal.

We'll see how this goes, but hopefully with the support of a friend who I know will NOT LET ME FLAKE AND MAKE UP STUPID EXCUSES that I will lose this freaking weight and these excess inches. (Because HOLY SHIZNIT, they took my measurements and, well, how can I put this. Um, ok... My waist is bigger than Tony's. I won't tell you the number, but I'll give you a hint. It rhymes with "shorty".)

2005.06.09 09:14:58 67.167.22.85 Search: query for 'fat'
2005.06.09 09:20:33 67.167.22.85 Search: query for 'fat'
2005.06.09 09:44:47 67.167.22.85 Search: query for 'fat'
2005.06.09 09:46:13 67.167.22.85 Search: query for 'fat'
2005.06.09 09:59:25 67.167.22.85 Search: query for 'fat'

Well, hi there person searching for "fat"!

Since you brought it up...

Yes. I'm fat.

I haven't always been fat, infact, there was a time where I was rather thin, but for the most part, I've always been "Just right".

Problem was, I've always THOUGHT I was fat, even when, in reality, I wasn't.

I'd starve myself, I'd take laxatives, I'd exercise excessively, I'd take diet pills all in an effort to not be fat anymore, so I'd stop hating myself and what I saw in the mirror.

People would tell me I was crazy, that I wasn't fat, but I thought they were lying.

I'd cry a lot, because I hated how I looked.

Now, at 33 years old, I know what it feels like to truly BE fat. Not just THINK I am. I can no longer fit in the size 9 jeans I used to curse. I can't even fit in the size 14 jeans I would cry about.

I don't like this body I'm living in now, infact? I hate it, however, I'm learning to not base my worth as a human being on this body. I want to lose weight, because I want to be healthy and fit. I want the aches and joint pain to stop. I want the thighs to stop rubbing together so as not to start forest fires in the heat, if you catch my drift.

In the past, I made the huge mistake of not enjoying life because of my weight. I'd turn down invitations, I'd lie to get out of seeing people, I'd make excuses and promises of "next time!"

I don't do that anymore, because I realize that I'm only cheating myself and the ones I love out of memories that we will cherish as we grow older. I never want to miss out on another memory. However, I don't enjoy the experience as much as I could because I have shame and embarrassment about the weight.

I'm working on losing the weight, but this time, I am trying to do it "the right way". I'm doing it slowly, taking small steps (as Joelle always says) and I'm working on The Inside as well.

I used to talk about it alot here, but I've stopped doing that. People can be cruel, people can be judgemental and many times when I'd write about my weight, I felt like I was misunderstood.

I hate being misunderstood.

I've made some progress, since giving birth to my third child, not as much as I'd hoped to have made in 10 months, but it's STILL progress and I'm proud of myself for how far I've come.

People often tell me I'm too hard on myself.

I'm not quite sure what that even means. When I say things about myself that aren't very nice, I am just saying that which I know to be true.

I've been upset about my ability, motivation and dedication to lose this weight. I have this "why even bother" attitude, which is only contributing to the problem.

"Why even bother eating a salad instead of a burger, you'll never lose this weight anyway, so...JUST EAT THE BURGER!!"

What the hell is wrong with me? Why am I doing this to myself over and over again?

Today I decided it was time to "get real". Again. For the 239858th time. I can't give up on myself. I want to live a long life and? I want to be cute again. Is that ok with you?

I had my son take my picture a few minutes ago. I wasn't happy with what I saw, infact, I was kind of pissed. My husband pointed out that I look NOTHING like I did in the picture I took of myself in October and told me I should look at how far I've come, not how far I have to go...

Recently, I've run into several people that I hadn't seen in quite a while. All of their reactions were exactly the same.

"I didn't even recognize you"

And each time, I said the same thing.

"Of course you didn't, I'm FAT. I don't even recognize myself sometimes"

Judging by their reactions, it's not ok to be honest. "Noooo, that's not it. It's... it's... it's..."

"I'm fat. Last time you saw me, I wasn't fat!"

"Well, no, um, well, uh..."

DAMN IT. Why can't people just be honest and say "Well, yeah. You are. But I STILL LOVE YOU!"

It's not like I'm saying "Well, because I'm an axe-murdering prostitute and last time you saw me, I wasn't an axe-murdering prostitute!"

I'm saying THE TRUTH.

If I was 140 pounds the last time you saw me and I'm now 200 pounds, well... that's PROBABLY why you don't recognize me.

You read that right, I'm 200 pounds. Let's go ahead and get that out in the open and out of the way right now.

My daughter is 7 months, I have ONLY LOST 50 pounds.

Basically? I suck and am failing big time with my weight loss. Remember when I was kicking much ass with my weight loss and I was all "I've changed and I'm GOING TO DO THIS!"? Umm, yeah. Here we are in MARCH and I've only lost another 9 since then.

Suck. Fail. Suck.

I'm ashamed. I'm embarassed. I'm disgusted with myself. What else is new? Yawn. At least I'm honest about it.

So, when I run into people, and they're all "I didn't recognize you." I can't help but answering with "Well DUH, I'M FAT AND STOP ACTING LIKE THAT'S NOT WHAT YOU MEANT."

It annoys me. Why can't people be honest about it? I know, they feel bad, but please?! Stop with the "No, you're not fat. You just had a baby."

STOP IT. I did NOT just have a baby. I had a baby SEVEN MONTHS AGO.

Just fucking stop it.

People are just trying to be nice, I suppose. But it's not nice. It's... I don't know what it is, but I wish people would just stop.

The moral of this story?

If you should ever see me in public and I say "Hi! I'm Y and I'm fat!" Just say "Yes, yes you are".

Since I started Weight Watchers today, I thought today would be a good day to take my "before" picture.

I'm sick to my stomach right now. I have not seen a picture of myself at this weight, and even though I see myself in the mirror everyday, it's totally different looking at yourself on film (at least I think so). It gives you a different perspective of what you look like. Andrew snapped a couple pictures and I just uploaded them. What I see on my computer screen right now is hard for me to look at. I think I'm fatter than my mother. I swore to myself I would NEVER let myself get fat like my mom.

I started going through some old pictures and it's very clear to me how sick and twisted I have been about my body in the past. I have ALWAYS seen myself as fat. Even when I was 125 pounds. The truth is, I've always been big in the ass and legs, but I was not fat. Now? I'm a fat lady and I can't stand it. I hate it.

I'm going to do something I'll probably regret. I'm going to post a picture of what I looked like 2 years ago at this time of the year, what I looked like last year at this time and what I look like this very minute. I am sure I'm only opening myself up for ridicule, I'm sure people will mock me and laugh at me, but I imagine people do that everyday when they see me in real life anyway. I just think I need to expose myself so that when I talk about my weight, no one can say "Oh, you're not FAT!" or "You just had a baby."

No, people. I'm fat. Really fat and I think you need to see it. I mean, I think *I* need you to see it.

I don't plan on staying this way for long, but I hope I can get through these next few months without hiding away from the world.

Here goes...

Today I begin my journey to lose this excess weight. I know it's not going to be easy considering I'm heavier than I've ever been in my entire life and I have NINETY pounds to lose, but it's something I have to do.

I'm not comfortable being this size. I feel horrible, physically and mentally. Everyone says "but you just had a baby!" Yeah, whatever, a lot of people who just had babies aren't 90 pounds overweight.

I've lost 19 since I came home from the hospital, but I'm still over 230 pounds. I should be ashamed and embarrassed to write that number down for everyone to read, and I AM, but I feel like I have to be honest about it.

I look in the mirror and I don't even recognize the person I see. Surprisingly, I'm not depressed about it, I'm not crying about it, I just hate it. It makes me mad, actually. I'm angry that I let myself get this way. I could blame it on the fact that I was on bed rest, but that's bullshit, I still could have eaten healthy. No one forced my already fat ass to eat cinnabons with milk at 10pm.

I'm nervous about how long it's going to take me, it makes me sick to my stomach actually, but what can I do? I have to start somewhere and today is the day.

I've decided to join Weight Watchers, but I'm going to wait until after the boys start school (August 27th) to start going to the meetings. I have all of the materials now, since I had joined just before I got pregnant, so I'll follow the plan and keep track of my weight at home until then.

I hope I'm successful and am able to beat the shit out of this excess weight and the issues that got me to this point.

Today I begin my journey to lose this excess weight. I know it's not going to be easy considering I'm heavier than I've ever been in my entire life and I have NINETY pounds to lose, but it's something I have to do.

I'm not comfortable being this size. I feel horrible, physically and mentally. Everyone says "but you just had a baby!" Yeah, whatever, a lot of people who just had babies aren't 90 pounds overweight.

I've lost 19 since I came home from the hospital, but I'm still over 230 pounds. I should be ashamed and embarrassed to write that number down for everyone to read, and I AM, but I feel like I have to be honest about it.

I look in the mirror and I don't even recognize the person I see. Surprisingly, I'm not depressed about it, I'm not crying about it, I just hate it. It makes me mad, actually. I'm angry that I let myself get this way. I could blame it on the fact that I was on bed rest, but that's bullshit, I still could have eaten healthy. No one forced my already fat ass to eat cinnabons with milk at 10pm.

I'm nervous about how long it's going to take me, it makes me sick to my stomach actually, but what can I do? I have to start somewhere and today is the day.

I've decided to join Weight Watchers, but I'm going to wait until after the boys start school (August 27th) to start going to the meetings. I have all of the materials now, since I had joined just before I got pregnant, so I'll follow the plan and keep track of my weight at home until then.

I hope I'm successful and am able to beat the shit out of this excess weight and the issues that got me to this point.