So I know in the first update I said I was going to post and discuss the triumphs and tribulations of Operation MILF by Fall every Monday, but the thing is, I’m just an habitually late person. So it’s now Friday and here we are. I’ll probably give some false deadline for every upcoming post, take it or leave it, the chances I’ll ever grow out of that are fairly slim.
I actually went Sunday to Sunday last week with zero adult beverages. That’s a big deal, maybe it shouldn’t be, but it is and I lost 4 fucking pounds. So, I mean, that’s motivation. I tracked all week, was real concious of my intake VS outtake of calories so I’m sure the four pounds lost wasn’t just the lack of booze, regardless, it’s pretty substantial.
Fast forward to this week and I’ve tracked every day again, stayed under my calorie/fat/carbs/sugar goals, but to say that I’ve made the best choices would be a bold faced lie.
But, I am remaining confident in my progress. I just want to be feeling real good about myself by October. I’m going to be 34. 34. THIRTY FOUR. Damn. Legal drinking age at this point consists of
kids people born in 1997. In 1997 I was in the sixth grade, getting in-school suspension for skipping recess. How does one skip recess? It was a stairwell thing.
But that’s a story for a different day.
Next week I’m going to weigh in on Monday, which keeps me accountable over the weekend, and I’m going to take my measurements. If I continue to only look at the number on the scale my, slow-metabolism-over-thirty-year-old self will end up real frustrated . Plateaus and shit. I need multiple reassurances that my efforts to curb my crazy cheesecake cravings are worth it.
For now, I’m just keeping one goal in mind, and that is to keep the fried haddock outta my mouth at work tonight.
If you’ve never experienced a good ol’ Wisconsin fish fry you might not understand this struggle, but trust me, it’s real.