Song Lyric of the Day:
I don’t think you’re ready for this / ’cause my body’s too bootylicious for ya babe
Destiny’s Child / “Bootylicious”
8:57AM.
As I mentioned around Christmas time, I started gaining weight around Thanksgiving. Well, I’ve gained a couple pounds more of late. Starting last night, I did the first voluntary cardio I’ve done in a while (when was Taft president again?). So how out of shape am I? The six timed minutes I barely eked out on the bike took closer to 15 minutes in real time, including breaks for me to wheeze. And to rest my aching legs. And, apparently, my puny lungs also are no longer accustomed to physical exertion, since I was out of breath most of the time. So very, very sad.
That said, I’m actually only seven pounds heavier than I was at Thanksgiving. Still, those seven pounds are enough. Most of my pants are too tight. I can no longer fit in my awesome found-for-$7-on-sale Levi’s low-rise jeans. Well, unless I’m okay with walking like this:
Which I’m not.
Which is why I’m going to make a conscious effort to cut back on my inherently gluttonous tendencies (up-sizing fast food meals, eating anything and everything fried). Also, Rich is really making an effort to get on a healthy track, and this is my roundabout way of supporting him.
I’m tired of feeling my belly jiggle when I drive over bumpy roads. I miss being able to wear some of my tight t-shirts because my stomach is not as flat as it was a few months ago. (And I’m really missing out without those tees; combined with my favorite bra, I look great in those.) I hate that my sisters can poke my tummy and I’ll giggle like the Pillsbury dough boy; it’s a reflex at this point (although the sibs love that). Those great Gap jeans that were comfy around my hip bones last summer? I have to hold my breath just to button them now. My favorite black Chinese dress? I honestly think the seams would pop if I put it on now.
At least I have height on my side. Being taller than the national average for women (5’4″? still? really?), I have the advantage of the extra weight being stretched out over my frame. I have to watch who I bitch about my weight around, though; one of my girlfriends has threatened bodily harm. Still, having been genuinely skinny most of my life (until my freakish metabolism went and got lazy on me), it’s weird being the heaviest I’ve ever been. It’s not too bad, though. I know if I stick to a consistent cardio routine along with ab work and, well, not pigging out like I like to, I can shed the five pounds or so that will allow me to once again choose which pants I want to wear with impunity.
You know, I wouldn’t be this annoyed about it if some of the weight had gone to where I really need it: up top. Figures I’d get screwed in that department, huh?
Use coffee grains!!! I hear they help fat tissues die!