The dreaded half marathon!

Ya, I've talked about it before, but now my sister is making me do it with her.  Now I know I said I wanted to do it, but to a 200+ lbs chick with asthma, 13 miles is pretty daunting! So naturally I'm terrified. (and also terrified that I keep revealing my weight on the internet!) So I have no choice...5 months to train.  It's pretty expensive to sign up so I can't back out, I've no choice now. It's sink or swim...or, run or look like an ass while wasting 130 bucks. I choose run. Perhaps in the process I'll shave some lbs off my frame, and hey, I may be able to eat a lot whilst still training! That's a plus! Ok, so realistically it's probably not the "eating more" that I'm looking for but, I'll take what I can get.
Last week I made a bet with my husband, I would work out three days that week and if I didn't I had to do "something" unpleasant.(Maybe stop reading Dad) There is really no better motivator than shaking on that kind of a bet. I won't go into details, but it's something I really hate doing. In fact most girls actually do. Men, if you love us, please don't EVER make us do this not so nice thing!(Use imagination now) Needless to say, I worked out only two days, but please, don't tell him as he seems to have forgotten the whole deal! Sucker! But this leads me to my current plight; Now I have to work out consistently. Refer to paragraph 1, si vous plait. I have to continue to make deals with the Devil, aka my husband, in order to motivate myself to work-out. Why do I do these things to myself? It's like fat kid Russian Roulette!
So I'm starting my "training" this week, which consists of running two miles (it's a fucking start, ok?) three days a week. Today I should have gone to the gym after work but I ended up coming home to spend time with my husband instead (you know, since he's joining the military and all here pretty soon, and we really don't get all that much time together anyway) But we've just been fighting, and sitting at our respective computers all night. Should have gone to the gym, at least I would have felt better about myself. Such is life...You know it is Sunday, start of a new week! Too bad I had two ice cream sandwiches after dinner....fail.

*stay tuned folks, you know this training shit is going to be funny!

Damn you Del Taco!

So I went out of town this week, visiting my family, and God love them they spoil us all rotten! I mean, it's like we walk in the door and we all must look emaciated to them because everyone wants to feed us! Del Taco for breakfast here, BBQ dinner with cookies and cupcakes there, prime rib dinner the next night.  Now my husband and kid are tall and skinny (kid is two and almost as tall as me! ...God...? Why are fat people short too?) so they can eat all the bad crap they want and I gain all the weight! Yea! Can I slit my wrists now!?! So it doesn't matter to them what they eat. And I tried like hell to be a good little soldier and say no thank you, I'm fine, I had my 90 calorie fiber bar and green tea. But I just ended up charging after my brother like a bull seeing red as he headed out the door to get everyone breakfast! "Wait brother! I changed my mind!!!!" ...Shit... So much for eating well and maintaining control while traveling.

Don't even ask me about working out! I even brought work-out clothes, didn't use them at all!! Looks like once a week is my max, but really who needs it? Working in a hospital everyday I see healthy bastards dying right next to the fat ones so it doesn't really matter now does it? I mean, we are all going to die anyway, so why not eat crap all day? Fuck exercising! Go sky dive and bungee jump if you want! I mean, I won't ever do that crap, there's probably not a harness that can safely hold my fat ass anyway, but, you know, you go right ahead! Life is too short to diet! It's too short to work out like a freaking animal! I mean I will still try to get skinny but like maybe I'll occasionally flirt with sloth and gluttony. Or just not eat for a week? Who knows!

Sunday, Sunday,Sunday!

I like to pretend that at the beginning of each new week, I have again a new opportunity to eat better and work out more than the last week. This being Sunday and all I get a clean slate, which negates all the naughty fat kid stuff I did the last seven days.  Oh internet, I was such a naughty girl last week, hell, last month! I don't know why but I find comfort in the fact that as I sit in front of the T.V. Saturday night stuffing my face with pizza (a personal fat chick fav btw...) that all of this will mean nothing as I fully plan on eating nothing but a granola bar and a handful of grapes tomorrow. That should set the balance right, right? What a sick and twisted world I live in! Seriously, how on earth did I end up fat? (Note the heavy sarcasm)

I blame my mirrors somewhat too.  For whatever reason I don't look that fat in them...It is not until I catch a glimpse of myself in a window as I pass, or see myself in photos that I truly gasp "Eek! Is that me? I AM fat!!"  Then my whole day is ruined, whole fucking day. Then I go home and gorge myself on the pity cookies I just bought, to make the bad feelings go away. Then I go look into my mirror and tell myself "It's not that bad, see?" Warm fuzzies are back, and the day is bright again.

But all of this is beside the point (I'm really good at going of into random tangents folks). Today is Sunday, and after a bad, naughty week, I'm promising myself, no fast food, no late night pizza parties pour une, no sneaking into my son's animal cookies for a sugar fix, and certainly I'm going to the gym more than once! Hell maybe I'll go three times! Down girl, baby steps, remember....Yea Sunday!!