In Which The Wagon Runs Over Me

Beckie's diet=EPIC FAIL

I don't even want to talk about it.

What I do want to talk about is that this is only a minor setback, I think. I'm going to Hell-Mart to go buy a new scale (I returned the other one, it broke...guess how THAT made me feel), buy some more Slim-Fast, fill the Halloween candy dish with apples that we picked yesterday at the orchard instead of the yummy goodness that is Reese's Peanut Butter Cups (mmmmmmm) and start hitting the gym...hard.

While browsing around at Goodwill (don't judge, you know you do it too), I found 4 new pairs of workout shorts/capris (no more wardrobe malfunctions! YAY!), some tops, and the "Thighs of Steel" dvd. And a yoga one too.

Plus, I went to the doctor and he told me some bullshit about how exercising releases endorphins and so I'll both feel better physically and mentally and yadda, yadda, yadda, and then actually prescribed to me that I work out for an hour and a half five times a week, then to at least walk for a 1/2 hour those other two days.

Seriously dude???

We'll see how long this lasts. But depending on what the newest evil scale tells me tomorrow morning, I only have about 15-20 pounds left to reach my goal of 160.

If I don't reach it, it'll be time to talk to the plastic surgeon. I hear they do payment plans.

In Which I Fall Off The Wagon

Stress.

It happens to all of us, and everyone deals with it in different ways.

Me, I eat.

I do not even want to say how appalled I am over what I have gorged myself on. Let's just say that Better Cheddars, baked beans, raw cookie dough, Krispy Kremes that may or may not have been stolen by me yesterday at clinical (really, if you don't want to share them, don't leave them in the break room), Big Macs and mocha frappes somehow entered my digestive tract.

Oops.

I have vowed that I will get back on track tomorrow. Back to the land of vast amounts of water, shitty low fat cookies and to the eeeeevil elliptical.

*mad face*

In Which I Say Screw The Gym

It is Monday freaking morning. I hate Mondays. It means that I have to wait another week before I get to watch football again, another week until I get to spend hours with my children, and another week until I get to sleep in past five thirty.

Stupid Mondays.

I decided that I was going to skip to the gym today. There are so many reasons that I'm rationalizing in my head: I don't have any clean gym clothes, my back hurts, it's raining, my contacts aren't going in today, and I'm feeling a cold coming on. I should go to the gym because I totally binged on cookies this weekend (Keebler is the devil) but...no.

Whine, whine, whine. Bitch, bitch, bitch.

I had to get the kids to school (and of course the bus was late), and now I'm going to sit my fat ass on the couch and work before my friend comes to pick me up for class.

Someone told me I need to stop being so negative all the time. Okay, so let's try this again. I got to sleep until 5:45 this morning. I got snuggles from a baby boy. My ass is decidedly smaller, so I will sit my not-so-fat ass on the couch now. And because the bus was late, I got to see that super hot daddy putting his kid on the other bus that comes here. Om nom nom.

On that note, maybe I should go to the gym...