I know I have been overeating. I know that I have been substituting food for smoking. I know that I have been chowing down like a starving, wild animal after I have just a few drinks. I know that my pants are getting so tight that the are leaving tread-marks around my waist so deep that you could run a hot wheels race on them. I knew all this and still got up the nerve to step on the scale today.
Before I got on the scale, I made all those lame promises you make to yourself in the hopes that what you see won’t be as bad as you think it is. No more binge eating…no drinks except during the weekend…no take-out… and so on and so on, as IF it really would magically make the weight gain not be so bad. Unfortunately, it didn’t work this time.
I now weigh 187 lbs. That is 17 lbs heavier than I was the week before I stopped smoking. I’d throw myself off a bridge except I’m afraid I’d just bounce. Things really have gotten out of hand. It’s been 5 years–yes that’s right, 5 years–since I weighed that much. I can’t let this pattern continue. I won’t go back to being huge.
If you look on my side bar, you’ll see a new widget, Big Tub o’ Lard. Every day I will post my weight for all the world to see. Watch while I struggle, like a blob fish out of water, as I attempt to return to my former, less flabby state. I’ve done it before and I’ll do it again. So cheer me on when my weight starts dropping and chastise me if it starts to climb. Trust me, I can take it. I’ve got a thick coating, for now anyway.