A fat-tervention of my fat-cation.....by: Me.

I planned on writing today because, well, I've been a sucktastic blogger lately. And I was going to write about all the adventures I had last weekend, then I stepped on that dreaded flat chest bitch called.....dun dun dun......The Scale.

The blood rushed to my head, I started seeing stars and I'm pretty sure life stopped.

Not really.

But close.

I have gained 9 pounds. NINE!!!

What the F*CK is wrong with me?!?!?

Oh yeah, 2 months of solid beer consumption and shoveling the hole in my face with anything and everything available like a damn sow at chow time, all while my little pink tennie shoes gather a plethora of dust bunnies.......that's what's wrong with me.

I don't want pity.
I'm not writing to get sympathy or an ass chewing.
Or to hear y'all say, "ahhh, you'll do better." Or, "get back on that skinny train and mow some bitchpounds down!" Or, "you just plain suck."

I'm writing because I'm unbelievably pissed at myself. SERIOUSLY PISSED!
I'm doing my own ass chewing. Big time.
I knew better. I knew that I was letting everything go. My healthy eating. My running. My life.
I just let it all go.
I didn't even step on the scale but for once in the last two months. Because I couldn't face the miserable truth of what I was doing to myself.

I am two months away from my blog anniversary, when I started this to get my life together, and now I'm right back where I started. I haven't made ANY progress. (Enter whiny tone.)
Ok, that's a little dramatic. I did make progress, I ran my first 5K just a month ago and I did have a pretty great diet for most of the last 8 months (pre-2 months of the pathetic fat-cation).  So I did make progress. But now I've degressed!

Sweet JESUS!

Well. Shit. It's time to turn it around. Again. Damn, I freaking hate this revolving door of stupidity.

To be completely honest, the scale wasn't the reason or the start of the 'turn around'. I actually went to the 'new' gym last night and signed up.  I miss running.  I miss eating right.  I just kinda had that realization yesterday as I mowed down two slices of pepperoni-loaded pizza....with full fat ranch.  Nice, Laura, nice.

All this junk has made me feel.....yucky.  I feel swollen. Seriously.  And I feel low. Like moody low.  I've had numerous dips in my depression this last two months, more than I've had all year. Kawinkydink? I think not, people.  I just don't feel good.  I haven't felt good in a long time. I knew this though. I've known it for the whole two month fat-cation. I just chose not to listen to that teeny little voice saying, "get up off your fat pooper, put your F*ing shoes on, go out and run, and PUT THE DONUT DOWN!"

Well, I pulled the sprinkles and frosting outta my ears and I'm listening now. Loud and clear.

It's a little under 7 weeks to New Years. That's 7 weeks to restart my life and end the year on a positive note.

No more craptastic food.
No more 6 packs on Wednesday night for nothing.
No more excuses.

I will run.

I will weight train.

I will eat clean and healthy.

Starting RIGHT. NOW. 

No, seriously. I just got 'the donut call' and I turned down those Devil puffs of goodness. Spank you very much. It's also popcorn day and I have skirted that buttery tastiness also. Two gold stars for me today ladies and gents.
Today, I brought a salad with lettuce, cucs, toms, and turkey with feta and low-fat greek dressing, yogurt, an apple, and a small amount of potato salad.  I'm seriously thinking about throwing out the potato salad, though. It's not that healthy for me.  However, I did use light mayo. But, well, we'll see. NO. Throw it out! Helllooooo......Not.That.Healthy.For.You!  But really it's not that bad. Jesus H Christ. I'm arguing with what to do about 1/2 cup of potato salad....on blogger. Perfect. Not a little cooky. Not at all. (Sorry for you new followers. This is me. Ohhhhh soooooo me.)

Moving on.

Tonight I'm going running directly after work. I brought my workout cloths to change at work, then hit the gym on my way home.  I was planning on getting up this morning....at Satan's asscrack of dawn(4:30am), but I ended up changing the alarm. And I was actually pissed at myself because I never did fall back asleep. So tomorrow I'm going to try again.  I'm also going to do Bodyrock.tv tonight after my run. 

I am really thinking that I need to start toning up.  Before my senses took a plunging leap off the good-n-healthy cliff, I was eating right and running, but I just couldn't get below 150.  That led me to wonder if 150 is where I'm supposed to be.  And that's ok with me. But I definitely need to get my muscles in gear, because I'm pretty sure that there is still some fatty fatty surrounding those little guys.  OH, that reminds me. I'm going to go to my other gym and get my body fat percentage checked.  That way, if the scale isn't moving I can concentrate on lowering that. Never mind. I just searched it and I can try and do it at home with a tape measure and a scale, then following some complicated mathematical bullshit (sorry Mom [she was a math teacher for 25 years]) and Taaa Daaaa, body fat percentage. Winner winner chicken dinner.

Ok. 7 weeks.
Here's my goals for exercise:
1. Run 3 times a week.
2. Do weight training twice a week.

Food goals:
1.  Eat clean.
2. Only drink on the weekends and try to limit the amount.

So. Nice chat. Thanks for listening/reading. Whatever.

I can do this.
I AM going to do this!