TGIF

Okay, so I don't cook on Fridays. We get take-out, and you can bet it's not a side salad, hold the dressing. I think I'm going to keep my Friday dinners as an oasis in a week of tastelessness. I worry that, like the junkie I am, one taste of the good stuff will send me into a shame spiral of donuts and chocolate, but we'll see. I hope not (sort of).

Penny- alright, out with it. HOW did you lose 42 pounds? I NEED to know. I must do this very thing (and then some). I get so overwhelmed thinking about the big number I need to whittle down, so I'm just going to attack this thing in 10-pound increments. Many, many 10-pound increments.

After a trip to Target today, I finally found the weirdo battery for my scale. So, now I know how much I weigh. I'll say this- I feared worse, but it's a bad, bad scene. I swore I'd be honest about this, so here goes... 187.5 I admit that I just peed and reweighed myself before writing the last line, in the hopes of eliminating about 40 pounds, but no luck. Oh. My. God. So, if you recall, I weighed around 125 pounds at college graduation, which means that I've gained 60 pounds since my husband and I started dating.

Which brings me to my reason of the day: False advertising. He's a lovely person, my husband, and would never say a word. But come on, it's not like he hasn't noticed, and if I were him, I'd certainly care. I was a slim, energetic 22-year-old, and have progressed at an alarming rate into tubby middle-aged lethargy. When we moved in together, I used to bake him a cake a week (yet another campaign promise unfulfilled), which started me off on the path to ruin. Actually, up to that point in my life, I used to eat whatever I wanted. No problem. Giant bowls of ice cream, fettuccine alfredo, a whole row of oreos? Yup. I remember looking at overweight people at that time and thinking, "I don't get it. WHAT are these people eating?" Oh, karma.

So anyway, there's no way I'm losing 62.5 pounds, and it's unrealistic to think I could get back to my 22-year-old self after 3 kids anyway. So, what do you think? I'm thinking I could go for 145, then have my diastasis repair/tummy tuck (well, as long as they're in there, right?), and that could knock off another few, to come in near 140. Is there any way I could do that? Seems totally insurmountable. I want to twitch my nose, a la Bewitched, and just be done with it.

And just to be clear, I am not "big boned" (is there such a thing?), and I do not have thyroid problems (really, Oprah, I expect more from you). This is purely a result of eating too much crap and sitting around on my every increasing butt. So. The punishment fits the crime. No excuses. Although, I really think I'll feel so much better at a healthier weight. Also, getting started in springtime is nice. At night, when I'm out jogwalking, it's crisp and cool and nice and starry out here in Georgetown. I could think of worse ways to spend my time (two hours watching American Idol with a pack of M&Ms comes to mind...).

So, here I go. The journey of a thousand miles begins with the first blah, blah, blah...