Hell hath no fury

…like a woman who just found out that she has 2% more body fat than last time she was at her current weight.

Facing the Unknown.

I’ve avoided measurements because I knew the numbers weren’t going to be pretty. I haven’t taken measurements in nearly a year and a half. For the first 9 months it didn’t matter. The last nine, though. Oof. I know how differently my clothes fit compared to what they did before.

On positive note, my chest measurement was substantially larger so maybe I’ll freak out less about having itty bitty boobies as the scale goes down. Because that was traumatic.

On the serious (but still positive) side… I still have a boatload of booze bloat from all the alcohol I consumed December-February so the numbers should chill out a bit as I continue to flush that out. They already have quite a bit. I did a waist measurement 2 weeks ago and was so shocked my tape measure went flying out of my bathroom, through the hall and into the living room. Thank lawd that measurement dropped by 5″ already. Yeah. That much. Booze bloat (and dehydration) is an ugly devil.

The Numbers Game.

As I mentioned (I think), over the past few weeks I’ve been slowly making changes with both food and exercise. I’m finally at a point where I can put the 2 pieces together so I can pick up where I left off a year and a half ago… by tracking. Calories in, calories out. Weight. Chest, waist, hips, arms and thigh measurements. Ugh. All the numbers. I hate number tracking and have tried to do this without for months but I kept failing. So, unfortunately for me, it’s necessary until it everything becomes second nature again.

BUT… do you know how straight up pissed off I’m going to be the first time I realize I can’t have a 2nd glass of wine because my calorie count won’t allow it? OR, better yet, when I can’t have one at all.

Well, at least watching my measurements decrease again will be fun.

The Motivator.

Totally need to get my ass moving so I can actually complete the Warrior Dash in August that I signed up for. I’d hate for the registration fee to go to waste. Or for me to, you know, die during the race. Because that would be bad, too.

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