I have this little problem. I go through phases of being interested in something (cross stitch, art journaling, photography…). I get really excited about them, announce that I’m starting some grand project, then lose interest and quietly hope no one asks how I’m going with it.
So, it’s with a large amount of trepidation that I have a confession to make. This time, I’m hoping that having an audience – even an imaginary one – will prod me into living up to it.
I’m fat. Well, I’m round. My mother says that I can get away with it because I’m tall, but the fact is, according to the BMI system, I’m past fat and into obese. Which hasn’t actually bothered me all that much in the ten years that I’ve been this size.
Except, for some reason, I’ve decided that I would rather be smaller. It would be nice to be able to go shopping for clothes in an actual store, instead of mail order. It would be even nicer if my pants didn’t wear out where my legs rub together.
I don’t have big issues or hangups about my size – but I’m starting to take steps to change it. I joined a gym and got a program from a trainer there. I’m tracking what I eat (boy has THAT been a revelation!), and I’m dragging the bathroom scales out to peer at them suspiciously each day.
Why am I confessing this now? Because I like the idea of people knowing what I’m doing. I figure it’ll give me that extra prod to do better.
So there’s a new ticker, showing off how much or how little I’m managing to achieve. I don’t have a goal weight in mind, really; at this stage I’m counting little victories, not big ones. Starting with the fact that, even though I’m going to overshoot my daily calorie intake for today, I’m still munching on carrots instead of breaking out the chips and beer. Yay for me!