The last time I talked about my weight was back in January. I was all proud of myself and let me be the first to tell you that it has all gone to shit.
Well, not totally all to shit. I'm not even close to my worst weight, but still. My thighs have reclaimed their chunk and for all of these months I have blissfully ignored it. I am fully aware I have done close to no exercise since November. I could run on the fuckmill but that has been gone since March- my mother in law has that now. The winter months are not my friend and so I try to stay indoors as much as possible. Now that it's gotten warmer I have decided to get out and start running again.
OK, that's not why. This past weekend in Nebraska I happened to get a good look at myself in the hotel mirror and was like, "Who fucking let Baby Beluga out??" and then was like... oh. That's me. Awesome. God damn.
Then when we were in Jay Cooke State Park on Father's Day Olivia took a picture of Matt and I. And I pretty much looked awful. Sure, part of it was probably that Olivia a terrible photographer doing it from a weird angle and part of it was that it was at the end of our hike and let's just say I wasn't feeling real fresh.
So this week I am kick starting my weight loss routine. On Sunday we walked around the Omaha Zoo for the entire day and I woke up yesterday barely able to move. Today I went for a good half mile run (don't laugh), and walked for another half mile. I am fucking sore. I am going to kick start this because this shit is unacceptable. It is not OK to feel a jiggle while standing still.
I don't take very good care of myself out of laziness and picky eating ways. I cannot force myself to choose a vegetable over a chicken nugget, I am genetically fucked up to where eating fruits and vegetables seem wrong. This is where natural selection would have kicked in centuries ago but thanks to mutated and processed foods I am still alive. I do a really good job making sure my kids and Matt are taken care of and I leave no time for me. Not only is shit weather a road block but so is the fact that if I were to choose going out for a half hour or so versus cleaning the bathroom, doing laundry, or getting an activity ready for my kids, I'm pretty much not going to choose exercise. But dammit- I need to.
So there you go. Your leader has fallen off the wagon but by fucking god, she's getting back on. Yee haw.