Choosing hope.

Today, I have officially signed myself up for my first 5k!

It's a momentous occasion, definitely. I'm ecstatic. 3.2 miles seems pretty easy and I hope it's as easy as my brain is telling me it is. What my body will say will be determined at some date in September when I go for my 5k for Donna, all on my ownsome.

It's a virtual 5k. I know, I was a little confused when I first heard about it as well. From the website:



Race information
Registration is open now and closes September 30th and the cost is $25 - part of the registration fee's will be used to cover the cost of the medals, paypal fees, and postage - all remaining money will be donated directly to Donna's Good Things.

How far:
You decide - 5k or 10k (3.1 or 6.2 miles)  I'm holding this race to coincide with pediatric cancer awareness month, therefore, you can complete the distance any time during the month of September.  Feel free to run, walk or crawl!!  You can do it all at once, or break it up into smaller distances.  Feel free to use the results from another race you may have run - as long as its during the month of September.


Basically, you pick the time, you pick the place, and you just run. You run for Donna's Good Things, and you run for Donna. Donna has a story with a less than magical ending. She died at the age of 4 from cancer. I am not a mother yet, but every time I read the blog series her mother, Mary Tyler Mom, wrote about from diagnosis to Donna's passing, I feel for her and my heart breaks. I cannot imagine what someone goes through when their daughter has cancer, but Mary Tyler Mom wrote with the eloquence and soul that comes with a grieving mother, no matter how many years later. I love her. She's acknowledged me a couple of times on Facebook, mostly by liking a comment I wrote, and it totally makes my day. I get all star struck. Needless to say, to run a 5k for her daughter is a great honor and I'm going to be wearing the medal I receive from this in the Princess Half.

There was a mantra that Mary Tyler Mom had during her blogs (and into today): choosing hope. You can either wallow in all that's going wrong with your life, give up and throw the towel in, or you can choose hope. You may not know the outcome. You might be 99.9% sure of the outcome being the one you don't want, but you can always choose hope. My first 5k might end terribly, I might go through inhalers like they're going out of style, I might crash and burn at my own finish line, and my legs might never want me to walk again, but you know what? For this one, I choose hope.

I'll breathe when I'm dead.

Today was just one of those days where I feel like I weigh approximately 700 pounds. I feel bloated, hungry, like there's not enough food to fill me up, my face looks bloated and splotchy, and I'm so charming that I even walk around my living room with my jeans unbuttoned and my gut hanging out because I just feel overheated and gross and ugh.

I am grateful this horrible day is almost over. These days seem to come at least once a month, sometimes once every two months if I'm lucky.

And yet, despite me sitting in my chair, jeans unbuttoned, gut hanging out, feeling and looking as gross as described above, my husband says "you're beautiful, honey," blames it on hormones, and kisses the top of my head. He makes me almost cry for all the best reasons.

To make these Fat Days even better is that my asthma always seems particularly bad on these unholy nightmares of a day. I'd say 90% of the time, I have no problems with my asthma, even when I'm running or exercising or what have you. But sometimes it just comes on strong and it suuuuucks. I don't have any inhalers, which are usually a quick cure, so I just drink a lot of water and hope for the best.

It does not help my cause that I have a deviated septum and really need to get it fixed. If you don't know what that is, it's when one of your nostrils is always clogged. Constantly. Always and forever. I am never able to breathe out of both nostrils and it really, really, really sucks. I am usually breathing out of my mouth because I don't get enough air through my nose and I look like an idiot. According to Dr. Google, about 10% of the population (at least in America, I think) has it. A lot of people that have it don't even think anything of it because it's such a part of daily life.

Maybe when I've found temporary unemployment in my near future (happens all the time -- such is the career of someone in the pool business living in a temperate area) I can take the time out to go to my primary care doctor, have him recommend I go to a specialist, go to the specialist, have them agree that I need the surgery and get it done so I can breathe properly. You know how doctors work.

I should probably really make that a priority before the half marathon. Months and months of training to be brought down by a stubborn nostril would be absolutely crushing.

One more goal before the finish line. Such is life, eh?

It was all started by a mouse.

The past year of my life has been a complete whirlwind of change. Most good, but some bad. I can't complain as the good has without a doubt out weighed the bad, and not many people are that lucky. Universal needs to steal my identity and call me Oswald, because I'm one of the luckiest people I know. While a lot of that is because of the wonderful man I'm married to, the family I have chosen to surround myself with, and the fact that I get to sleep in a warm bed every night and not in the streets, I have to say that Disney has played a major role in influencing the way my past year has turned out and I will be forever grateful.

I know that many people make these kind of reflections in January. That makes sense. The year has literally changed and people think about they have changed as well. For me, August was the turning point of my life when I realized how completely head over heels in love I was with Disney. We had a trip planned for September 12th to the 16th and it was going to be wonderful. I had planned it almost exactly 6 months before hand, so I had just enough time to start learning about booking dining and learning about more of the restaurants, parks, attractions (I swear, I didn't know there was an attraction inside Spaceship Earth until a couple days before I was in Epcot), parades, shows, Walt, and perhaps most importantly, learning about other Disney fans.

What a special breed of people they are. I mean that in both the good and bad. There are some really, truly miserable people out there in the Disney community. They only find the bad in the changes Disney makes (see my previous post about accepting change without being a negative Nancy), they will be resort snobs to the max and put down those who can't get on their level, the ones who will make a cast member's day a living hell. But at the same time, there are some absolutely wonderful people among them who find the good in the bad, the ones who will go out of their way to make Disney even more magical than it is, the ones who will wish upon a star and wrap themselves in the magic, whether they're in the parks or not. These are the best kind of Disney fan, and I'm proud to say I'm good friends with many of them.

I would not have been to several new cities without them. I don't even know if I'd have become a Disney travel agent without them. And now I find myself running a half marathon in Walt Disney World because of them. The work outs can seem long, and I can sure as hell feel sore the next day, but I know it's going to be completely worth it. I'm going to wear that Princess Half medal for days after I cross the finish line.

There are many people I am doing this marathon for. For myself, of course. That's a given. For my husband, so he may have a healthier and cuter wife. For my future children, so that they'll have a healthy home for 9 months and have a mom who should last a lot longer than I would in my current state, and so they know they can do anything if they put their heart into it. But also for my father-in-law. He tragically passed away earlier this year and one of the last things I remember telling him (or having my husband tell him, as I don't speak Danish that well) was that I was training to run in a half marathon in Disney World. I will completely uphold my promise, come what may.

When someone passes away, one of the things we think about is the things they will not be able to witness with us in person, but I know they'll be there in their own way. My father-in-law will never meet my first born child, but he will be there. He will quite literally be a part of this child of ours, making up 1/4th of him or her and I know our child will have characteristics that will remind us of him, and while it may be bittersweet each time, he'll still be there.

I feel the same way with Walt. He may have died at a very young age (he and my father-in-law were almost the same age, too) but his impact on this world cannot be denied. I cannot imagine a world without Disney in it. Movies would not be as full of heart, vacations would not be as fun, and I just shudder to think what the state of the world would be in without Mickey in it.

Because of Walt, I will run. For Walt, I will run.

I only hope that we don't lose sight of one thing - it was all started by a mouse.

Fat, dumb and happy.

I was looking up another word for "content" because I'm not exactly content, cos I'm pretty exhausted too, but I'm not in a bad place. Cardio X whooped my butt as always, but it's one of the shortest exercises (43 minutes or so) so it wasn't so bad. I definitely pulled something in my left thigh doing a runner's pose (one of the many reasons I hate yoga) and thought for a couple seconds about giving up cos I could barely stand up without it hurting too much, but nope. I pushed through. I *have* all my limbs. There is no reason for me to give up so soon, and on the third day at that.

That being said, I know my limits. I always stop when I feel like I'm either going to puke or in dire need of some water, so don't worry. I don't plan on dying just yet.

However, I think we all know this is the greatest part of P90X:

Even the people sweating on the floor agree with me. And there's Tony Horton, standing over us, being a boss. I love him, I really do. I hope he appears at the Princess Half marathon like I've seen him make appearances at the other run Disney events. That alone would get me out of bed at 3:30 in the morning.

Anyway, so apparently another way to say "I'm content" is "I'm fat, dumb and happy." Well, I am fat, and I am happy, I don't think I'm that dumb though.

2 outta 3 ain't bad.

Tit for tat.

This is a blog men/women-lovers probably wouldn't care to read, despite the fact that it is probably all about boobs.

These are my boobs.

O-O

These are my boobs on sports bra.

_._

I hate sports bras. I want to set them on fire and not in a revolutionary type way, but just because I hate them so much.

My chest has always been one of my greatest physical assets. It makes me sad when I put on a sports bra and they magically disappear. I look like a chubby little boy when I have my sports bra on. When I would go to the gym, sometimes I would forego safety and health and convenience to wear a normal bra so I would look more feminine. Sad, isn't it? It's one of the most vain things I do to myself.

I kept it on last night when doing P90X (which I do in my living room, which only my husband dwells so it's not like he really cares if I wear a sports bra or not) and the straps kept slipping over and I felt like an ass, so I kept it on tonight. Huuuge difference in performance, although my butt was still whooped hard by Tony Horton. He'll do that.

Oh, and I've tried just not wearing one when working out and nearly gave myself a black eye, so that's out.

I need to get over my ridiculous insecurities of looking like a chubby little boy when wearing one. I have little to no reason not to, and when I lost weight a long time ago, I only lost about a cup and two band sizes. Big boobs are a thing that runs in my family, blessed are the men that love us.

This post really has little point other than to shout myself out on my insecurities in hoping that getting it out in writing and in public will help me get over myself. This is a completely honest blog, after all.

My Mom said it looks like I've lost weight today and that made me smile. Thank you, mommy. You look like you have lost weight, too. (Duh.)

Till our great, big, beautiful boobs tomorrow, friends.

"He that is good for making excuses is seldom good for anything else."

As fat people, we are ridiculed a lot. And some of us deserve it. There are true, honest to God gluttons on this earth who think of deep fried sticks of butter as a nice way to start the day and not a hilarious novelty item found at county fairs that you laugh at on the outside but die a little bit on the inside with the fact that people actually eat these. Paula Deen, I'm looking at you and your Krispy Kreme Bacon Cheeseburger you proudly toted on national television. I know she has come a long way since then, but that kind of promotion is why such a big portion of Americans are, well, big.

Have you heard of the Heart Attack Grill? You can probably take an educated guess as to what they serve. You can get a thing appropriately called the Quadruple Bypass Burger that looks like a thing that only people on death row would order as a last meal, as a joke. There is also a butterfat shake. This bears repeating: a butterfat shake. I'm just gonna let that sink in for a second, but don't think about it too long or you'll want to skip out on lunch like I kind of do right now.

The owner died of a heart attack, surprising the world. 

Not all fat people are fat just for the hell of it. Some of us have hereditary problems we have to battle, unlucky metabolisms, you name it. These are understandable. And you know what, there are just some big people in this world. Some men and women are just built like a damn bear and that's how it just has to be. Where would we be without lumber jacks? I always imagine lumber jacks when I think of people who are just naturally big and they make me smile with their little plaid shirts.

But we still face ridicule no matter the reason because no one wants to listens to stories or excuses, they just want to make you feel bad for being fat. It's happened since bullying began. There's also an imagine in America in particular that women have to be a bean stalk to be pretty. I knew a girl who was a size 2 and was a model, but many agencies told her she had to be a plus size model. A size 2. A damn size 2 is plus size in the fashion industry. This is why eating disorders are such a thing, on the opposite end of the spectrum, and it's just as sad and disgusting as the genius who came up with the Heart Attack Grill.

I have never been so big that I've been asked by an airline to buy an extra seat. I've never even needed a seat belt extender. But I have been in embarrassing situations before because of my weight and it's awful. It haunts you for days, months, years after the fact. I still remember what some kid said to me in 7th grade. I don't think it'll ever leave me.

I don't know about other people, but I can get defensive about my body. Why? I don't know. Maybe it did start from the bully in the 7th grade. But I always have an excuse on the back burner if I'm accused of being gigantic on the spot. When I'm at the grocery store, I hope they know that the hot pockets are for my skinny husband, and that the string cheese sticks are low moisture and skim milk and not that bad when you think about it and I'm only buying a big shirt size because my boobs are so huge and and and.. it's sad. I should not have to feel the need to defend my life from some complete stranger. I only have to answer to myself.

So I am done thinking of excuses. Excuses are only worth the breath you waste giving them and nothing more than that. Even that is too precious when you think about how fickle life is. At the end of the day, I am the reason I am overweight and there's not enough pixie dust on this damn planet that you can sprinkle on my fat ass to magically make me thin. There is a phrase about exercising that in a year from now, you'll wish you have started today.

I was going to wait a couple more weeks before starting P90X, but no excuses. Tonight I'll start up again and Tony Horton will be my friend for 60 days straight. Why 60 days? Because on October 14th, I'll be flying to California with my husband, mom, and two best friends to visit Disneyland, California Adventure, Universal, Knott's Berry Farm, yadda yadda yadda, for a spectacular week. That will be my prize. What a prize it is. And anyone who's toured a Disney park knows that's enough exercise right there, and then I'll pick it up again when I get back home.

Watch this space. I am starting today.

Accepting change without being a Negative Nancy.

So today I woke up (first at 2:30 in the morning because the Dane was scaring the crap out of the rats and, in turn, me, because they were wrestling in their cage and he didn't want them arguing. Peter, the peacemaker.) and went to my day job and dealt with the usual suspects, then went on my Disney news blogs  to see a couple of things: one, the French pavilion in Epcot is getting a makeover, and two, the Magic, the Memories, and You is retiring to make way for something allegedly better.

Now, I personally cannot imagine anything better than sitting in the vicinity of Cinderella Castle and watching pictures and videos of the day's guests projected onto the castle while a tear-jerking song plays. I have never been able to tell if I've even made it onto the castle because you would probably have to be smack dab up against the castle to really make out the faces properly, but it's a nice sentiment and I will sit there and watch it several times in a row if I'm there on the right night. But I trust Disney and I know they will take this wonderful creation that I love to share with my nearest and dearest and turn it into something even better. Probably, anyway. I'd say there's a 99.9% chance of success with this one. If you're a betting man, them's some good odds. That's just how much faith I put into Disney's ability to continually making things even better than they are. I don't know how they do it, but bless them for making it happen.

It's okay to be sad that it's leaving the form as we know it and changing into something new. I'm sad, too, but I can tell there will be at least a few select Negative Nancys that will throw a hissy fit because Disney is  throwing off their perfect schedule with the audacity to make changes. Stop being ridiculous, Nancys. You are at the most magical place on Earth. Shove a premium bar in your mouth and shush.

This happens any time Disney makes any significant change. I remember reading about the protests (yes, picket sign type protests) when Mr. Toad's Wild Ride closed in the Magic Kingdom. Many of said protesters swore to never come back to the parks if they closed it. Never mind the fact that if you ask any child nowadays who Mr. Toad or Ichabod Crane is, many of them will just look at you weird. *I* hardly even know who Mr. Toad is, if not for a few Sing Along Song VHS tapes growing up I probably wouldn't have had a clue. That's why they took his space and turned it into Winnie the Pooh, someone that many children and adults can recognize and enjoy. Will there be protests when The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh is evicted? Maybe. Will I be one of them? Probably not, and I love Eeyore.

I understand we all want to preserve our childhoods as the sand grains of time continue to slip away from us and the Disney parks make up a big part of many childhoods. It certainly does for mine. We want to be able to take our children and our grand children and our great grand children on the same attractions we've found ourselves enjoying since we could remember. But can you possibly imagine how outdated the parks would feel if we still preserved them in their 1955 and 1971 (and so on) states so that we could do just that? I mean, can you really imagine people still enjoying the mule rides and being amazed by the Monsanto House of the Future? We just landed on Mars the other day, folks. Do you think people would still be queuing up for their 40th time on Rocket to the Moon?

Per Walt's request, "[Disney] will never be complete. It will continue to grow as long as there is imagination left in this world." Attractions will close, parades will end, shows will change, and the sun will still rise in the east and set in the west. It will be okay, Negative Nancys, I promise you.

I am going to try to channel the faith I have in Disney to make better changes into my own life. Man, that would be miraculous, wouldn't it? There's a Disney shirt that says "This area is being refurbished for your future enjoyment." I should have gotten that when I had the chance.

Till then, friends.

Much to do about nothing.

As the title might imply, I didn't do very much today. I was busy as all hell from the moment I woke up until I am finally sitting down at 9:00 PM EST, but I didn't really exercise. I didn't eat like crap, either, so it almost balanced out. But not really, as I really should have found some time to exercise. I am kinda lame today.

I did find this article on CNN though: 'The Beast' races to lose 100 pounds. It's about a man who blogged his journey to weight loss and fitness (good golly does that sound familiar) and is coming out in great shape because of it. He posts about the good and the bad, as any honest writer should. I would love to lose 100 pounds. I would love to eventually finish a marathon, too, not just a half. I am miles and miles away from that, no pun intended, but it's not a pipe dream if I keep up the running. I also would love to be featured on CNN for my triumphant weight loss and excellent blogging skills. I seriously would not mind talking with Anderson Cooper, either.

I adopted some rescue rats today. They came as triplets named Lock, Shock and Barrel, who are now friends with Artemis (a rat we rescued a couple weeks ago). They all came from the same rescue and are about the same age, so they're buddies now. In the rat world, they probably ran two marathons in the amount of energy they had this morning and afternoon, which is why they look absolutely pooped in this picture:

(From the top, clockwise: Shock, Lock, Artemis, Barrel.)

They have 3 levels to sleep on, and they all choose to sleep on the top bunk in a pile. If I exerted as much energy as they did today, I would probably do the same.

Tomorrow is another day. I am 194 days out until the Princess Half. To quote the great George Takei, "oh my."

“Above all, be the heroine of your life, not the victim.”

It was a nice Sunday. I know Sunday is traditionally a day of rest, but my Sundays always seem to be the busiest day of my week. I have off on Sundays and Mondays from my day job, so my Sunday feels like a Saturday. You'd think by now I would have gotten used to Sunday actually not being Saturday as it has been since time keeping began, but I am only usually reminded when I go to a store thinking it's still open and they actually closed hours ago because it is, in fact, Sunday, Christina, you idiot.

The Dane (my husband, who is usually referred to as my/the Dane in writing because it makes him sound majestic, like a rare dog or something.. right, onto the rest of the sentence now) and I went out to a hibachi restaurant with our friends and it was really, really good. I had the chicken hibachi entree which came with Japanese onion soup, a nice light salad with a citrusy dressing, vegetable fried rice (but not the disgusting holy crap how many chunks of sodium are in this thing), fresh noodles, chicken with garlic sauce, and grilled vegetables. It also came with mochi ice cream at the end! All for under $20, so I was happy. I left feeling full and happy and not full and gross like I sometimes do after a meal. A+, lunch. A+.

We then went to Radio Shack, Game Stop, Pet Smart, Target, to our friend's house, back to our house, played a board game (I totally won), and then rest. Then I realized I had a promise to keep.

So just so you know:

I will not be donating to the wrong campaign tonight.

Have a happy Saturday Sunday, friends.

Desperation for motivation.

I do believe that a lack of motivation is the biggest reason people don't achieve their goals. I don't think it's fear of failure as much as it is a lack of motivation. That's what it's been for me, anyway. Sometimes I need motivation for the dumbest things.

Even writing this post today requires motivation. I almost completely forgot about it until this comedienne I'm watching said she is only motivated to get out of bed by the fact that she needs to move her car on street cleaning days, and I realized, "aw crap, I have a blog open."

This is the exact same "aw crap" I feel when I realize I have done next to nothing to train for the half marathon in a day. My diet was nice today -- turkey sausage with egg whites for breakfast, 5 bites of a salad for lunch (lettuce fills me up stupidly quick), and homemade chicken enchiladas for dinner. Plus, I drank enough water today to make me instantly regret how much water I drank judging by the amount of trips I took to the bathroom. Yeah, could have done without the cheesy goodness on top of the enchiladas, but it was baked, and it was grilled chicken, and I opted out of sour cream.

These are the baby steps I was talking about previously in work. Look at me, taking baby steps like a drunk little toddler. I don't drink though, it slows your metabolism down and I need no assistance in that area of my life. My exercise routine sucked, though. Unless you consider said hustles to the bathroom exercise, I really didn't do much of anything. I can blame not having enough time in the day, but I know it's also because I was not motivated. And, aw crap, the half marathon gets a day closer every 24 hours, whether or not I trained for it.

Every now and then I'll have huge boosts of motivation. Watching certain videos on YouTube inspires me to be a better person, a better travel agent, a better Disney fan, a better runner, etc. Comparing myself to others -- in both good and bad ways -- will also motivate me. Oprah calls them "aha!" moments. Oprah also has ten hundred kajillion bazillion dollars sat in her bank account and could buy the entire half marathon admission fee to full capacity, retroactively buy everyone else's that already signed up, and have Mickey, Minnie and Donald escort her from the start to the finish line if she so desired.

How about I make you guys a promise? I promise tomorrow, whether or not I "feel" like it, I will do either one mile or a half an hour on the treadmill. Whichever comes first. I solemnly swear this. If not, I'll donate money to the presidential candidate that I do not like. I do not want to donate money to them. That will be my motivation.

Aha!

Eating with the enemy.

Like any good Disney fairy tale in the making, there's the heroine, her sidekicks, her loving family, and of course, her enemy. My enemy is pizza. I cannot say no to pizza.

I just had pizza tonight. It was simple -- pepperoni and cheese, a classic. I technically didn't order it. My mom did, because she was also feeding my 3 brothers and their friend, as well as my husband and I, so while I did not necessarily invite this pizza to my front door, I certainly didn't slap the phone out of her hand. And when the pizza arrived, I didn't say no to it either. I had two slices. Lame, Christina.

My mom has lost tons of weight by saying no to pizza. She's had much success on Jenny Craig, something like, oh, I don't know, 50 pounds or so. She also has the benefit of being able to pay the $20 a day for their food and services. $140 a week is a big chunk out of my paycheck, so I get to stay fat and have to lose weight my own way. I'm very proud of her and she looks wonderful (I always thought she was the most beautiful lady anyway) no matter what. But here I stand, Jenny Craig-less, and you know, fairy tale heroines have to have some conflict the masses can relate to. Keeps it marketable.

I am learning how to say no, though. I said no to lovely, deep fried, boardwalk fresh zeppoles the other day (for those not in the know, it's literally deep fried pizza dough covered in powdered sugar and 100% heavenly) in Point Pleasant, and settled with a soft serve ice cream instead. Okay, substituting one snack for another is not something worthy of an award, but it's a step in the right direction. If I start saying no to pepperoni pizza and yes to more salads, the steps I take towards the half marathon will be much easier to make.

I am breaking up with you, pizza. I am done. Like any messy break up, I'll look back, think about the good times, and consider cheating on my current love to go back to you, but I have to let go. I hope you understand, pizza. Don't worry, my husband will still devour you as often as he can. We'll keep in touch.

A small hello from a big girl.

Ahoy there.

I have come to the horrible realization that my next Walt Disney World vacation is but 197 days away. Poor me, huh? Most people are filled with glee at the thought of being on vacation in Walt Disney World, hugging Mickey Mouse, watching the fireworks over the castle, and all the other nice things people are seen doing in commercials. I should know that people love to do these things -- I'm a Disney travel agent and it's the best job I've ever had in my life. I don't even consider it a job because it's something I love to do and that's such a rarity nowadays and I am incredibly blessed. I WILL be thrilled to do all of the nice things they do in the commercials, but only in 195 days, after 9 AM EST or so.

Eh?

Well, you see, on February 24th, 2013, I will wake up at around 3 AM (this is usually the time I find myself going *to* bed on my days off), try to shove something protein and carb happy down my throat, suit up in whatever ridiculous attire I have fashioned for myself (think Disney princess fitness chic), waltz out of my Boardwalk Villa studio with my supportive but groggy family, and fancy myself for a 13.1 mile run in the middle of Florida. I will be surrounded by thousands upon thousands of like-minded nut jobs, one of which will be my mother. They give you 3:30 hours, and it starts at 5:30 AM, so after I have gone through the 13.1 miles, I will be happy to continue my Disney vacation as the commercials promise. Normal people call this the Princess Half Marathon 2013, I call this one hell of a reason for a Walt Disney World trip.

Who even *does* that? Me. That's right. I'm that person who does that and I am scared out of my damn mind.

It is probably even made more hysterical by the fact that I am overweight. According to the BMI business, I am morbidly obese. Now that's not quite fair. I don't do usual fat people things. I don't like mayo, I don't drink soda that often (and when I do, it's diet), I always thought Twinkies were disgusting and I hate McDonalds. I am not 100% sure why I have always been fat. Look at all of my pictures from birth till now -- Buddha baby, chubby toddler, big girl, etc. Always the big girl, and tall, too. It sucks. It really does. Despite all this, I have a husband that loves me and a network of friends and family that are more amazing than a girl could ask for. But I need to do this for myself, above anything else, and so I shall.

So I have been working out. And I have cut things out of my diet that I really liked. And I have already made compromises because I am dumb, but I guess that comes with being human. I figure I will make less compromises if I write about it in a public place and make a commitment to the wide world of the internet to document my exercise/diet/all that jazz on a semi-daily basis.

I am honestly running on faith, trust, and a little bit of pixie dust at this point. I'll need a bit more than that, but it's a good start, innit?

Hugs,
Christina