Monday, October 4, 2010

Saturday, 10/2/10:

WEIGHT before eating today:  157.5

Daily Calorie Goal:  1200 or less
Total calories eaten today: Over 2000.  (Late-night pizza/movie candy-fest.  BURP.)

Any random people out there who may be reading this are no doubt wondering whether I'm really taking my weight-loss quest seriously, given that there are so many days where I don't come anywhere near my goal of 1200 calories or less, and just as many days where I hit 2000 and simply QUIT COUNTING.  

Well, it's true - I have to ask myself that very question, every day, over and over sometimes.  "How serious am I?"  Well, This blog is just one of many diffferent tools I've implemented over the past months, meant solely to motivate and inspire me to try harder.  I have spent more than 12 years counting calories.  It gets OLD.  It's SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO @#$*^ BORING.

So my blog is like my new "game," my new "thing" to help squash the tedium of keeping track of every single @#$*^ thing I eat, and beating the @#$*^ out of myself every @#$*^ time I cheat.  Fun, eh?

Yeah.  I hate it.  I've had a bad day or two this week.  I've been gearing up to succumb to a nasty cold that's making the rounds this past week, and now, it's here.  Which means baby is next; UGH.  Certain things in life take precedence over calorie-counting every now and then.  I try to let life happen, without being too hard on myself.  There are some days when I simply cannot put pen to paper to write "95 calories" as I sip my morning hot tea.  (2 teaspoons sugar + 1/2 cup 2% milk = 95 calories.)  I get @#$*^ tired of counting and writing, counting and writing...

Many days, I feel like my whole body looks like this ridiculous person's ghastly lips.  WTF?!
Too bad for me that counting every calorie I eat is the only way I'm going to beat this @#$*^ beast.  Yeah, that's right.  Fat is a BEAST.  A ravenous, rabid, slathering beast who is stuck to my a$$ like @#$*^ crazy glue.  I'm irate, OK?  I ABHOR this beast.  If I wasn't so worried about making a mess, I'd slice the beast off with the samurai sword in our bedroom.  (Don't ask.)  Seriously - how bad could it hurt?!  Not as bad as looking in a mirror does some days, I can tell you THAT @#$*^ much.  At least I have one thing going for me:

True, so true.

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