It's Time

Nothing tastes as good as being thin feels.

This I know to be true. I've been on the diet coaster since practically before I wore a training bra, and I'll probably be on a diet in the nursing home. You name it, I've probably tried it cheated on it. I've known the high highs of successful weightloss, and I've also, at times, contemplated smashing every mirror and reflective surface with which I come into contact.

I know by heart the variables that form the perfect equation for shifting the scale, and I'm also an expert at blowing a diet in record time. I have the workout videos, the workout clothing, and the gym membership, but I also have the ability to make every excuse in the book and make everything else a priority. You know I can't possibly forfeit one mindless vital television show, but I sure can't ever quite find enough time to squeeze in a workout.

I know what my problem is. I adore am obsessed with love food. I like the idea of food (cooking, etc.), and I love the social aspect of food. I like to eat food; I like to talk about food. Food, however, doesn't care much for me, or maybe it likes me too much? Perhaps a love/hate thing or something...

The spiral is usually about the same. I'm going strong for a few hours, a day, several days, maybe even a week. Then I start to think about food and all the food I'm not "allowed" to have, and it's like a magnetic force. The theme song from Jaws starts to play in my mind, and it's like a ticking time bomb. It's only a matter of time before I'm eating every cookie on the planet and drinking every Dr. Pepper I've ever seen.

So, why am I telling you all this? Why, few close friends and various assorted strangers, am I spilling my guts about this lifelong struggle? (That just made me think about that show on Nickelodeon, Guts. Do y'all remember that show?) Anyway, the reason I'm opening my mouth heart and spewing all my info out all over the place is this: insanity accountability. Maybe knowing I've told all to all of you and knowing you're sitting in judgment observation of me will serve as a constant reminder of what I'm trying to do.

I've decided I need someone to be accountable to, and, condolescences congratulations (!), I've picked you. You have permission to slap my hand, remind me of my commitment, and use cliches on me. ("I'm doing this because I love you.") I would love your help; I will cherish your encouragement; and I need your prayers, for I know I'm really needing to do this:

and I promise I'm going to try. (Don't think you're never going to see me eat a pizza again. Let's be real here.) I'm off to a relatively good, though slow, start; I've lost 15 lbs since March... which is better than nothing, right?

So, anyway, your responsibility ends here. Just being there to listen is all the pressure support I need. I solemnly swear that this blog will not turn into some sort of weightloss diary sob story.

Ugh... what a snooze (for both of us).

For now I'm feeling strong and my iron will is firmly in place, but I know there will be days I come home feeling like this:

and will want to eat all of this:

For those days, I ask for your prayers, forgiveness, and listening ears in advance.

I'll keep you updated on this portion of my saga continuing journey. This is not really about a crash diet or dieting for a specific event; it's more about a lifestyle change, and, let's be honest, it's just something I need to do. Even more than that, I want to.

All tips, recipes, ideas, bullying, encouragement, and prayers are welcomed, appreciated, and wanted. Like Screech said to Zack (I think), "I want to pump [clap] you up."

Oh, and if any of the three two people I know who live in Starkville want to work out, I'm totally game. (I mean, the embarrassment would be minimal for you because clearly I'm a senior citizen. Maybe you could even get community service hours or something?)

So, jump on board. It's going to be terrible fun terribly fun.

Oh, and did I mention I am starving right now?! (All this talk of food, perhaps... or the pictures of food...)
Off to a miserable fabulous start, huh?