Kicking my own ass

I am definitely my own worst enemy. During a bout of the blues recently, I have decided that those last 4 pounds have got to go...no matter what. Never underestimate the power of a good sob session and an "oh woe is me" attitude to get you moving (albeit probably temporarily). Now, I have ruled out the forearm removal option of my earlier post, but have definitely found room for improvement in the consistancy of my exercise. Therefore I have rolled out Operation: Kick My Own Ass, which involves weight training two days a week on my lunch break, cardio three days a week in the evenings, and a Saturday Body Pump class just in case I'm still breathing by the weekend. I estimate full success by June 1st. Hopefully sooner, because I'm not allowed to buy any new clothes, eat french fries or have alcohol until this is done (subclauses 2.3, 8.7 and 12.1 of Operation: Kick My Own Ass, respectively). I did the weight training AND cardio yesterday. I feel like I'm going to throw up / fall over / pass out...not necessarily in that order. I hurt everywhere. Bloody great.

God, I even hate talking about this. I hate people talking about their weight and their struggles. It bores me to bloody tears. I can't help just nodding along to their whining while thinking about eating a Big Mac.

But part of me realizes that I must talk about these things, for my own good. Because if I put it out there, then it's real and I must succeed, otherwise Operation: Readers Kick My Ass comes into full effect.

Wish me luck!