Holy heart disease, Batman! My ass is getting fat!
If I get any fatter, I'm going to look like one of those ladies on People of Wal-Mart, who clearly doesn't understand she's morbidly obese and should not be wearing that thong, spandex pants and halter top.
I weighed myself (I'd been avoiding the scale, since I knew I'd been eating everything that wasn't nailed down), and I've gained another 5 pounds. Ugh.
So, yeah, back on the Weight Watchers bandwagon.
Especially since we're discussing a possible girls' weekend in Florida this summer. I'd like to go to the beach wearing a modest one-piece (bikinis will never happen again without some nip/tuck... thanks, children). Not wearing a muu-muu. I do not want to be mistaken for a whale. I do not want to have a heart attack riding a bicycle. I am reasonably certain I look like this naked:
Yeah. Epic depression and self-loathing.
So, I'm back to actually using the WW's app, since I've been paying for the service for the past four months and not actually using it.
I also need to actually work out. My trainer friend must think I'm a moron, because I am the most uncoordinated person ever. I'm a mess.
But I'm determined to get this weight off. 45 pounds overweight, ugh. I want at least 15 pounds gone by summer, and I want to be back to the physical point I was two years ago, when I first moved back to Lex. Then I started feeling sorry for myself and eating everything I came into contact with, then got pregnant again.
So, no more excuses. I want to go back to the doctor by summer, and have a cholesterol test that shows I am not a heart attack waiting to happen.