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The Dana Files
Where Current Events Aren't Clouded By Baby Powder
Rambling, Ranting and Other Blogorrhea
By: Dana
Date: 03/18/08 8:17pm
Categories: Body Image, Chaos, Health & Wellness, The Dana Files
I’ve been going to the gym five days per week because I’m trying to slim down. Way, way down. I’ve got to shed at least 100 pounds. I know you might be rolling your eyes at that statement, but it’s true. Seriously.
I’ve never been this heavy. It makes me sick just thinking about it. I’m not going to tell you my number, but it has a 2 in it. At the beginning of the three digits. This is not good. It’s not healthy, either.
I’ve ditched the fast food (unless it’s an extreme emergency — like the Shamrock Shake I had on my birthday), I’ve stocked up on fruits and veggies and lean meats.
I’m digging 30 minute workouts on the elliptical trainer and I attend two toning classes a week. This all good, right?
And yet, I’ve only lost four pounds. I know. I know. Muscle is working it’s magic here. But still, I’m not a patient person, I want this weight to melt right off of me. High expectations. Totally Unrealistic Expectations. I know this. I’m not totally naive.
Since I subscribe to nine million magazines (totally NOT my fault), one of which is called Self, I decided to take the challenge. The Self Challenge.
Not only that, I’m joining Christina in the Hot By BlogHer Challenge, too.
And, I want to fit into my fricken skinny jeans again.
Yeah. Remember when I said I’d write a coherent post? I fibbed. This is a rambling mess. I can’t even get a sentence put together these days. What the hell happened to me? It’s like I’ve completely forgotten how to blog.
Totally suffering from Blogorrhea. No doubt.
If you missed my latest Mommybloggers post, I highly suggest you run from here and go there. That post actually makes sense. Maybe. I don’t know. See? I’m in a bloggy rut or something.
Although I have some good posts coming up for other blogs, The Dana Files is suffering. For that, I apologize.
But anyway, back to the rambling.
I think I hit my breaking point when I was trying on clothes in Target on my birthday. I found some adorable things, but they quickly became ugly ass fashion disasters the moment I put them on and stared at my rear in the mirror with the dim lighting of the dressing room, which highlighted my biggest assets. It was horrible. I cried. Can we say “muffin top”? Followed by “pear shaped blob” a.k.a my ass? I think my ass grew an ass.
Ugh. Ugh. Ugh.
Thing is, I’m all for eating healthy and exercising, but my husband is not. He could care less about what he puts in his mouth. His weight barely fluctuates year to year. Not that he’s a thin mint, he’s got some marital bulge, too. But he does most of the cooking and I do most of the sulking when buttons pop off my pants.
I saw a photo of myself from Christmas and I was sick. I look terrible. And it’s not a self-image problem. I’m seriously overweight.
I have so much to say about this topic, but I can’t get the words to come out. I don’t know what my problem is.
Y’all better read this post quickly, before I wake up tomorrow and delete it.
More information: http://thedanafiles.com/2008/03/18/rambling-ranting-and-other-blogorrhea/
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