I Hate Success

Lorraine Says: It's no secret really that I'm basically an Internet whore. Luckily, I'm writing this entry and NOT sending it to the rest of the Blobs, who I'm pretty sure are all dead. (Actually, I think I got an email from Lily sometime last week, about being too lazy to blog on another blog we share, so maybe she's just a missing person at this point and not entirely dead.)

I say luckily because I can already hear Bret and all his "whore" jokes which morph into racist jokes which all just translate into, "I'm still a fat fuck and picking on people much, much, much hotter than me makes me feel better about myself." There, there Bret.

ANYHOW, me = loves the Internet. I have my main blog, Childhood Trauma, 2 Tumblrs, Twitter, Facebook, a (semi-abandoned) music blog, I mod at 20sb, etc, etc, etc.

And then, there is this.

Oh, Blogging Blobs. It truly is a great idea. 5 overweight bloggers doing the weight loss thing together, with some combination of humor and demotivation.

It was a good plan for me. Why? Because I really am not a fan of other people's success. I mean, not as a general rule, but especially when it comes to weight loss.

I suppose that fact has a lot to do with where I've been during this period of Blob silence. I mean, the simple fact is that writing for a diet blog is pretty difficult when you aren't dieting, ya know? There wasn't any exercise happening either.

I wish I could blame it on one thing or another, but really, all the reasons I'd gained the weight in the first place overcame me again: laziness, chocolate, busy work schedule, big life changes, chocolate, dessert, the eating habits of a third grader, and laziness.

On top of that all, people around started losing weight. My older cousin, nicknamed on my blog as Ferfer, moved back to Florida a handful of months ago. Fer is a notorious weight yo-yo-er. And I'm pretty sure she's tried every lose weight quick scheme ever.

She's also the most pushy bitch ever. I mean, I love her, but she will argue with you about the sky being purple, and not blue, if one day she decided the sky was purple.

Well, after gaining a shit ton of weight during her last pregnancy, and holding onto most of it even after her daughter was born, she decided that enough was enough and that she was going to lose weight the old fashioned way: puking and corsets.

JAYKAY. Diet and exercise.

Her pushy self went around telling everyone that they were fat and gross and that they should come to her house where every day they would be using her covered patio as a makeshift gym. My sister and my good friend Venus drank the kool-aid.

And it's worked. Sometime during my silence, these girls have been working their asses off and slimming down and toning up thanks to some workout videos and dedication.

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GAG.

It's fucking terrible. Fer was after me constantly asking me when I was going to join and the more I was pressured, the more I was positively reinforced, the more I didn't want to do anything healthy.

And it worked. Any progress I made during my Blogging Blob stint was completely erased. Two and a half weeks ago, I stepped on the scale for the first time in months and I was nearly back up to my original start weight: 148.

Holy. Shit.

It felt gross. It felt horrible. And the worst part was that there wasn't even anyone around to point and laugh or make comments about how I must not be getting any Exercise or must be missing the famine part of my Ethiopian diet.

With the Blobs all dead (RIP) and my body quickly chunking up out of control, I decided to take a positive step in the right direction.

Step one: The less-of-a-fat-ass diet.

What? It was a baby step and a good one at that. Two and a half weeks later I'm back down to 143. Five pounds? That's about the equivalent of what Bear eats in one sitting, so I'll fucking take it.

It feels good to be back down, but I'm trying to ride the wave of motivation and success. Step two will be the "move-more-than-a-fat-ass" portion of my plan. I'm dying to start the couch to 5k program, with an actual 5k in mind to run at the end of the summer.

I mean, sure I keep putting up excuses like, "I don't have running shoes," or "people get raped and killed when they go out running," but maybe now that I've announced it to the entire interwebs I'll try harder to make it happen.

I'll do my best to check in this time next week.

Goal: Three pounds to 140. 1-fucking-40. I'm gonna look so hawt.

Avoid these pitfalls: My new job is located in a plaza with a Chipotles, Yougurtland and a Starbucks. WHAT THE HELL? My co-workers take field trips down to one or all of these places on the regular and saying no all the time is no fun. (Sounds like my sex life?) I've probably indulged more than I should, but for the sake of my bank account and my body, I must say no.

Do these things: I need running shoes  and OMG, where do I even start? 

For real this time guys.

For real.