And so it begins……

I’m a flip flopper……  Once a diet program gets too hard, I bail. And it can be something as simple as calculating something like chili or a casserole.

The moment it gets hard, I throw my hands in the air and proclaim “fuckitallimdone”.

Because that’s what adults do. Or something like that.

I also can never decide which one….. Weight Watchers, counting calories, counting carbs, counting macros, 21 day fix, portion control, no snacking, shakes, etc…………..

And that’s where my {or one of my} issues lie. Committment.

I need to pick one, committ and GO.

So I’m committing, to one. And sticking through it, through better or for worse. For sickness and in health. Til death do us part.

Weight Watchers………. will you marry me {again}?

I Don’t Even Know What I Look Like

It’s a level of body dysmorphia, I guess.

I keep seeing myself as the size 18//20 I was before I got pregnant and what I was shortly post partum. We only have one full length mirror in our house, in a guest room that we don’t use. All of the other mirrors in the bathrooms were hung by normal sized people so I only see from my nose up.

Which is good.

and bad.

I didn’t see the gains. I didn’t see my face almost doubling in size. My “apron” has also increased in size. And because I avoid my reflection, I didn’t see it. I didn’t see the changes.

Until I got infront of the mirror the other day. What I saw was not me. It couldn’t be. I couldn’t be THAT big. It just couldn’t be.

How did I let that happen? And even more importantly, why?

I’m ridiculously ashamed of what I’ve let myself become and it’s time to change it now.

The Greatest Failure Is Giving Up

I honestly don’t even know where to begin.

I feel like I have given up. Like I’ve let food win. And I honestly didn’t care. So I ate.

I ate myself up to a size 22//24. Gained almost 50lbs. Lost my self control. Lost my desire to live a healthy life. Lost my vision. Became focused on eating. Stretching my stretchy pants to their breaking point. Becoming uncomfortable in my own skin. Getting to the point I can’t bend over. I’m out of breath from going up stairs.  I became lazy. And tired all the time. I just want to sleep.

Things have gotten out of control and I need to regain that control. I keep saying “tomorrow”, but tomorrow turns into yesterday, and so on and so on, and the next thing you know it’s 5 months later and what should have been 10 lbs to relose is now 50lbs.

And so now I begin my journey from scratch. From the beginning.

Life’s like an hour glass glued to the table

There I was. In my car.

Shoving an individual sized lemon pie pocket thing into my mouth, sobbing whilst the sweet sound of Anna Nalik’s 2am song played loudly.

I attempted to sing along to stop the tears… but there was pie in my mouth. Pie.

And there I was.

Pie faced down in a nasty downward spiral.

This plateau has hit me hard. And as angry as I am about it, I can’t get out of it. I can’t get out of this rut. This lazy lazy rut.

And it’s my own fault.

Instead of channeling my strengths, my weaknesses have grown stronger.  My excuses have excuses,  and those excuses have excuses.

It’s funny though… because I can give the best advice to others, yet I can’t take my own… stop caling yourself fat, break the cycle,  just say no…

But it’s time.

It’s time I do listen to my own advice. Time for me to make changes….

And the first thing is to no longer be the ‘woe is me I’m going to be fat forever…’ mentality. No more. And with that goes the label of ‘fatass’.

Next I have to practice the art of saying no. And just because someone else is eating, doesn’t mean I have to be eating.

And there begins the changes…

With that being said… this blog will be retired.  I need to no longer be the fatass who is writing a diary.  I need to be the chick who is going from fluffy to fit & fabulous…..

And there begins the new journey.

A fresh one.

With my BFF, Chrissy Princ.

I’ll link the new blog later, but rest assured it will be awesomesauce.


I put in a great week.

I started adding a light jog with our walk.

I tracked.

And even though we had Chinese food yesterday, I got right back on track today.

Admittedly I’m a bit worried about Mondays weigh in… But I feel great about my changes this week!!

Phase II

I weighed in this morning.

I did not need my coffee after seeing the number on the scale. That alone was a big wake up call. A slap to the face. With a baseball bat.


After the first 3 numbers I kinda blacked out in a rage only those struggling with weight loss might understand.


Against myself.

Against the machine…. Errr, the scale.

That number symbolized my laziness. My lack of motivation. My lack of will power.

It showed a of my hard work last year was almost halfway erased.

For what?

Type 2 diabetes, fo sho. {because that’s inevitable if I keep this up}.

So I thought….

Why not start fresh?

I always use my start weight as 234.6 {my post baby weight}, but I keep seeing that total weight loss decline…..

So why not use today’s weight?

I mean, who {besides me} is really counting?

And so here I start…

Weight loss mission: phase II