Okay, so you know how I'm a total lardass, right? Its not false modesty, like I'm a size 4 and I'm like, "My butt is too big! I hate my thighs!" No, I'm a lardass, pure and simple.
I don't have any desire to be a size 4. I don't think I'm meant to be thin. I was thin a couple of times in my life, not dangerously thin or anything, but deliciously thin, and you know what? Screw that noise. Way too much work. In fact, losing weight would mean buying new clothes, and I hate shopping, so I'm actually mildly conflicted.
But here's the deal: I have bad feet, bad knees, and, shockingly, I'm not getting any younger. I know, right? I thought aging was for everyone but me, like jobs, and clean bathrooms. So, my friend and I are in a friendly competition to see who can lose ten pounds first. The runner up has to fly to visit the winner. We are in constant contact, using an online tracking system, texting, using a pedometer that has an online component, and, eventually, complaining and crying on the phone about how much we miss those extra 700 calories per day that we used to eat.
We've been at this for 33 hours. So far, I messed up my tracking by forgetting to log a salad. But I have taken two vigorous walks with my dog, had two smoothies, two salads, and leftover birthday cake. I logged the calories for the cake, and it was totally worth the wine I didn't drink later.
WP asked me why I didn't just throw the cake away, and this is exactly the difference between the two of us: She plays 11 sets of tennis a week and walks her dog for hours every day and throws out leftover cake; I take naps and lick the frosting molecules off the cake plate.
Yesterday I was on fire, totally motivated, energized, hungry and productive. Today I'm tired and cranky. I walked in the freezing cold this morning, and it was not fun or invigorating, but I did it. I drank my smoothie, and I went back to bed for a while. There is nothing like sleeping to keep you from eating.
So there you are: The cliché new year's resolution! I wont bore you with this daily or anything, but this is where my head is at. And my ass. My lard, lard ass.