- No eating after 6pm.
- Healthy foods only: Veggies, Fruits, whole grains and oats. (No junk food!) (I'm looking at you Doritos; you're dead to me.)
- Drink 8+ glasses of water. (I've been slacking)
- No more than a day without exercise. (But try for at least 30 mins/day)
- No more than 1,200 cals. Just don't.
- Record EV-ER-Y calorie that crosses my lips regardless of whether it is purged. (But I'm really gonna try to not do it at all...)
Monday, July 20, 2009
Rollercoastering: It's exhausting.
My first step of the day starts naked & vulnerable in my bathroom awaiting judgement in the form of numbers on a scale. Which will determine my fate for the day based on yesterdays plate (and Bad Decisions).
That being said, I need to make some ground rules for myself. Cuz the whole "fly by the seat of your pants" just isn't going my way.
I'm printing this.
I need to start thinking like a Skinny Person.
(Fake it until I make it! No more of this unbearable FatGirl nonesense.)
I'm looking for 124. For now.
It's like the Scale is some BadAss Bully beating me up, taking my lunch money and giving me wedgies and these Rules set in blog (it's the modern day stone...sorta) (okay, sorta not. Just go with it.) is some Hardcore Kung Fu Mastah! I'm about kicks some arse Kill Bill style, bustin out the Samarai Sword (or a light saber, I really shouldn't be trusted with sharp objects) (well, the light saber APP on my iPhone...WHATEVER! I'M FIERCE!) And then everybody will be Kung Fu Fighting, cutting weight fast as lightning! (That's right, I'm looking at you Scale. Be afraid. Be very afraid.) Jeans, prepare to be buttoned with ease and grace.
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I'm sorry but I need to do this. If I feel fat it's so hard to will myself to even leave my house. I'm so uncomfortable and ashamed of my gluttony I've ignored texts and e-mails and invites from everybody and something needs to be done about it (lose weight). Since Lipo, gastric bypass surgery or a Victoria Secrets Body Transplant are clearly not options this is my solution. I realize I'm merely shooting to fix a symptom and not the underlying problem. But I feel it is a step in the right direction: Feel better about myself and get out of the house (they go hand in hand). At 124, my clothes will at least fit thus, I will be able to at least fake confidence and strut on out into the world.
Until then Nothing Even Matters.
SideNote: Good lord with my Sad Pants posts lately! It's yucko. I know this. I'm sure once my weight isn't high as a kite and my mind climbs out of the gutter it'll be all Sunshine, Unicorns and SkinnyJeans!