My First Day

Ugh. That’s my word for today. Ugh.

I took full advantage of this past weekend knowing Monday (today) would be a day to dread. I should change my attitude and make this whole diet/exercise thing a very positive one. But why lie? I hate working out. I hate being disciplined and I hate limiting myself from all the sinful joys I’ve grown to supremely love.

In other words, I fully embrace my Hedonistic religion.

So I sit here, hung-over from last nights Baskin Robbins and pizza, typing my first journal entry of my new life, and worry about my ability to commit to this plan. After all, it is my 4,338 thousandth attempt. But, alas, I am down to my last two pair of pants that don’t cut off the circulation between my upper and lower torso and just days away from living in sweats full time. You’d think I’d be thrilled…

So I set my alarm for 5am and was optimistic that I would actually arise at this hour. And I did. So far, so good. (Surprisingly, I had a harder time getting Kevin up. He’s such an avid worker outer too. Sicko.)

I put on my sweats, sneaks, jog bra and large t-shirt to hide excess fat from said jog bra. I think my sweats just groaned too. They’re used to covering fat, not melting it.

The only one excited here is Kody and now, Kevin. (Sickos)

5:15 am…out the door.

I like to walk first. One must warm up and not over-strain the once sedentary body. My goal is to do 3 laps around the park; but, already I’m wondering if maybe I should just do two. Again: Not a good idea to over-strain. It’s about a 5 minute walk to the park and there’s never anybody there which is always good. I don’t like lots of people to see how much pain I’m in. I mean, is jogging/running not just the WORST sport ever? (I apologize in advance if I’ve insulted those that love it) Your poor little feet have to bear the brunt of your entire body over and over and over and over. It hurts to breathe. Where’s that zone everyone talks about? You know; where you supposedly feel really high?

That’s where I want to be from warm up to cool down…

I pick up the pace to a slow jog. More like a wog. This is a good pace because I barely lift my feet. It’s like a bouncy walk. Yes, yes…a bouncy walk; so, actually I’m balking not wogging. Certainly not jogging or running. Ugh. I’m two minutes in to my balk and things are starting to itch. My butt. My thighs. My bikini line. My back fat. My back fat? Oh my God, yes…I can feel the fat in my back. In fact, I can feel fat in places I didn’t know fat cells could survive. My breath is labored, my lungs are hurting. I hear things cracking; even Kody’s leash is becoming burdensome.

“Good for her!” is what people are thinking as you run by them…Good for that fat girl for getting out and trying to lose that weight…f*** off.

But I plug on because at 39 years old I have no choice. I’ve been promising my self for the last 8 years I’d lose these last few pounds (few, as in 20). This is my year. What a great way to ring in 40 – thin, toned and younger looking.

One lap: done. Things still itching, breathing not as painful. Kody becoming a bit more irritating. Kevin able to carry on conversation, me able to grunt responses.

Two laps: done. One more…wow, only one more. We’re 2/3rd’s of the way done. Kody’s cuter, Kevins more charming, can’t feel breath…still itchy and don’t care who sees my hands down my pants.

Three laps…I did 3 laps and I didn’t die!! And even better? I now have the whole day in front of me without that daunting thought of ‘Ugh…I need to work out…’ because I already did. Wow…not bad.

One day down, 59 more to go…