My coworkers are dieting. They are bitching about how hungry they get between their properly portioned lunches and breakfasts.
It’s making me feel this strange mix of “Bitches, please: I didn’t eat for 60 hours straight this week,” and “Bitches, please: uh, please forgive me for being a bitch and feeling all superior to your NORMAL BIOLOGICAL PROCESSES.”
P.S. 124. Still fat.
Man. Life really got to me over the past week, ya dig?
*~*NeWaYz*~* (that took way longer to type than I thought it should’ve. how much time did we waste doing that on AOL, y’all?! Oh, capricious youth!)
My weight as of Saturday morning was 125 on the dot. I forgot to do my measurements because of life and weekend morning mental fog. I’ll get around to it at some point. Probably.
After lamefast, my stats are as follows:
hips: 37” (i grew a big ol’ booty)
No ketosis yet, dammit. But, I was jamming on mad carbs for a while there. I bet I’ll be in ketosizzzz by tomorrow morning. Positive thoughts. Hooray.
Oh, the numbers game. Shit’s ‘bout to get intense up in here:
These are my measurements from when I was at 111 about three years ago:
That sounds way better than where I’m at right now.
So, I weighed myself this morning.
130 pounds. 10 pounds up from the last time I weighed myself, like, a month ago.
I haven’t weighed that much in probably five years.
So, I have a plan:
- Get my ass the fuck into ketosis ASAP;
- Get my ass the fuck into regular exercise ASAP, and;
- Get my ass the fuck into a manageable and comfortable size using the above means.
Easy-peasy. I hope.
I want to lose at least three pounds by this time next week. Keepin’ it riiiil. I used to be able to drop weight like nobody’s business. But, now I’m all old and shit. True story.