As of late it has become exceedingly apparent that I have been eating way too many spoonfuls of peanut butter (see previous post). As a matter of fact, peanut butter and other such comes-from-a-can-and-very-quickly-puts-a-smile-on-my-face foods are about all I remember of the last year. Just as 1+1=2, peanut butter (etc.etc.) + no exercise = larger body and smaller wardrobe. In turn, this leads to a very tired and sloppily dressed megs.
I can point my finger wherever I like to place blame, and so I will.
First and foremost, I am hungry. You can find me at any hour of the day planning what my next meal (or snack) will be while simultaneously nibbling on a few cups of chocolate chips. (Hey, they're small. Don't give me that.) Will the universe just make me full already?
Secondly, I am emotional. The reasons for this hideous problem I could name by the thousands, but today I am going to highlight my crazy hormones as the main culprit. If you'd like to know more please feel free to call me while I sob into the phone for an hour or two. Or maybe we'll just go shopping... Anywho, the point is that I literally eat my emotions and they've built a homestead on my thighs. And my chin.
Thirdly, I have three babies. Well, they're not all babies currently, but they once were and they've taken a toll on my poor body. And can I just say that I have an eternal hatred towards women who look like models from the back and are 8 1/2 months pregnant in the front. My body however is under the impression that babies are to be carried in your bum, and so it would naturally follow that my bottom would sag just as any mother's post-partum belly would.
Fourthly--and really this reason could fit into excuses numbers 1,2, and 3--I miscarried a baby earlier this year. Hungry, hormones, babies. Nuff said.
Fifthly, I walk funny and my bones and joints are all in wonky places. This has been confirmed by my physical therapist husband Charming--and for good measure, a chiropractor. Almost all exercise attempted results in much pain. Like me screaming that my knees are going to explode kind of pain. Whatever.
And sixthly, MY BODY HATES ME. This is a proven matter of fact. Perhaps I haven't given it enough reasons to love me, or perhaps it's still mad about those ballet lessons in 2nd grade. Whatever the reason, it wants to torture me. The end.
Well, not necessarily the end. I mean, chubby megs is fine and all to be for the moment, but after a moment or two you could say it gets annoying having to wear a skirt because none of your pants fit you. And having four gorgeous not-that-much-younger sisters constantly reminding me of what beauty and athleticism look like. Sigh.
Hence The Plan.
The Plan is not that finely tuned as of yet, but I'm here today to say that I'm working on it. I am going to be dieting myself into a better body image, as well as adding exercise (it tends to help).
In the past I have done Weight Watchers and was very successful. However, WW is getting a little old to me and I am sick of counting Points. For a week or so I am going to be seeing how strong my willpower is (and I think I'm frustrated enough that it might be pretty strong). WW might make a triumphant return if I can't seem to get a handle on things on my own. Counting calories may also be an option.
I plan on eating three super-sensible meals a day with free fruit whenever I like. Usually I don't like fruit--I would prefer a large scoop of Nutella thankyouverymuch, but obviously this can't happen anymore.
I will be drinking lots of water and starting small with walks around the neighborhood. That will gradually build until I can get back into step aerobics and riding my stationary bike. I'll aim for exercising 30 minutes, 5 times a week, to start.
Also, I have a bottle of "natural" diet pills that I will be taking starting in a week after I see how I've done on my own. This first week will be a control to see if the pills are really doing anything. And please don't tell me not to take the pills. You can tell me to be careful, but I think these pills are pretty organic and will not be hurting me. If they hurt anything it will be my pocketbook.
I've decided to use my blog as another way to check in and keep me motivated. Every Monday I'll be weighing myself in and reporting my weight loss. No, you don't get to know my original poundage because that is a rude question and how embarrassing! Let's just say it's somewhere between ouch and ludicrous. This week I haven't lost anything--the scale has just confirmed my worst fears. Meh. Continuing on. Once a month I will post a current picture of myself, so we can see the progress. (Picture coming soon.)
And when I say we, I mean anyone who is interested. I understand that just because you are my cousin or my friend from highschool you still may not be interested in the mundane details of my hopeful attempt to get in shape #183. Feel free to run away and check back in a year to laugh at me.
Not. I am gonna be so hott. Ahem.
As for those of you who feel supportive or just curious even--welcome. I could use all the help I can get.
That is all. You are excused.