Technically it should be week thirty-something. Actually, technically it should be week hundred and something since this has been an issue for so long now, but fuck it. Just like Jon and Kate I’m starting over.
Summer kicked my ass. I have been indulging in bad food a LOT and my exercising efforts have been weak at best. And I’ve kind of turned into a bit of a wino. I just love me a malbec. I’ve only recently discovered this particular wine, and it is YUMMY.
I went to the gym last week and weighed myself on their super-doper scale, and according to that I’ve gained 7 pounds since May (the last month I actually lost anything). I suck.
That’s okay, I’m not going to beat myself up over it. At least I’m climbing back on the Fat Chick bandwagon before I backslide the whole way. I will do better.
I’ve signed up for a twice weekly boot camp thing Trainer Lady is starting up just for fat people. It’s a small class of six, and each class comes with an hour of exercise and a stern talking to thinly veiled as ‘nutrition counseling and support’. I’m hoping that a group of actual fat people to relate to will help me. I don’t really know any other fat people in real life. I’m pretty much it. I’m surrounded by nothing but ‘the last five pounds’ people.
A good friend of mine once told me that if I ran in place for ten minutes before bed each night the weight would just fall off and I’d never be fat again. See what I’m dealing with here?
I need the REAL fat people as a support group to help me. The people who can’t wear a dress in the summertime unless they baby-powder up their inner-thighs. The people who have drawers full of gigantic lycra underwear. The people who dress in layers even when it’s 30 degrees outside. The burger king people. Trainer Lady PROMISED me nothing but five other fat people who want to cross over to the other side. I would love nothing more than a cocoon of people who plan to emerge from this class as ‘last five pounds’ people. This class starts on Sept 15th. I’ll keep you posted.
In the meantime I’m going to fight Fat Chick as hard as I can. She’s really loud and obnoxious and filling my head with thoughts like, “Well, you don’t start that stupid exercise group for another two weeks, so why not live it up now? You’ll have to get back into it mid-September anyway, so just shut up and eat that piece of cake. Can I pour you a glass of vino?”
She is such a fucking bitch.