I. Am. Done.
Yes. That is my feet. On a scale. What you can't hear is the groan of despair emitting from my mouth.
Is that number so terrible? No. I haven't really put on much weight in the last year. But I feel terrible. Easily winded. That general malaise that comes with eating crap food. The tightness around my waist and thunder thighs that indicates being too fat for my fat pants. That fact that I ate so much yesterday I ended up puking at 1am was kind of my epiphany - this has to stop. Now.
I need a little help from you all. See, the great thing about Weight Watchers is the accountability factor. I have to stand on a scale at the weekly meeting and either feel joy or shame, depending on that number. I can no longer afford Weight Watchers, so I'm wondering if you can help me accomplish the same thing.
Every Saturday I'll be posting my number. And I'm going to attempt to give you my average daily calories for that week. And, hopefully, make some mini- and mega-goals to achieve along the way.
No more excuses. No more "I'll start tomorrow..."
This is the first day of the rest of my life.