Weight: 310 lbs/140.9 kilos
Workout: Haven’t been to the gym in months, maybe not for the last year other than occasional racquetball.
Diet: Eating fast food for breakfast four days a week, usually sausage mcmuffin with cheese, no egg, 2 hashbrowns, large unsweetened ice tea.
Physical condition: Physical therapy finished last month for chronic inflammation of my right Achilles tendon, had been forbidden from doing any physical activity other than necessary walking.
How I’m doing: I don’t even want to ponder how many calories a day I am eating.
I lost my mind this week. Then I corrupted others with my magical thinking and delusions of grand accomplishments. Not only have I come up with an amazingly awesome, yet terrifying and utterly humbling goal, but the first three people I asked to join me also thought it was a good idea and elected to join in.
Mwaaaahahahaha! What’s better than going completely around the bend? Taking your friends with you to nut job city. Choo choo, the crazy train is leaving the station.
My first thought, honestly, was that I have surrounded myself with crazy people and that isn’t good crazy-self/crazy-friend balance. Someone has to be the sane one, and it really shouldn’t be me. I am not a good barometer for reasonableness, if that is a word.
My second thought was that isn’t true at all, my friends are not crazy. In fact, I am blessed beyond measure in the friend department.
The reality is that I have surrounded myself with amazing, powerful people who are life-long achievers, people who set a goal and conquer the hell out of it–whether it is school or weight loss or home improvement projects. I am officially surrounded by people who lift others when they fall, people who cheer for others without reservation, and who are, in general, really nice people. I am utterly and completely thrilled about this part of my life. My friends believe in me and when I told them about my whackadoodle plan, they signed up.
In other news, I weighed myself at work yesterday and I officially weigh 310 pounds. Shit.
Errr, I mean crispy fried Ewoks on a stale whole wheat cracker!
A few words on swearing:
I thought about solemnly swearing to keep the swearing to an absolute minimum here, but seriously, I think it is appropriate to say “shit” when you step on the scale and see that number. 3-1-0. Seriously, shit. That said, if you are the kind of person that is going to get your knickers in a megatwist because of the S word, I don’t think we are the kind of people who would be great friends, and I don’t think you would enjoy reading what I have to say. I don’t swear every other word in real life, but I’m not a sweat the small stuff kind of person. I spent 5.5 years working as an organ procurement coordinator, and one thing I learned was to not sweat the small stuff and that includes cursing.
I’ve decided to be 100% authentic here, and that includes not muting myself, so fair warning there will be an occasional curse word here and there but I will try to keep it to a dull roar.