So ladies and gentlemen, mesdames et messieurs…I’ve officially lost ten pounds.
And I celebrated by eating cheesecake.
Do I feel bad?
Heck to the are-you-freakin’-crazy no.
And I lost them just in time for Hannah and Jason to get married. At first I was scared that my bridesmaid dress wouldn’t fit since I bought it when I could have rolled down the aisle instead of walked, but it looked way better on me than it did before. Ok, so maybe I wasn’t as big as I’m making myself out to be, but I didn’t feel comfortable in my skin and that’s never ok. I used to be proud of myself because I didn’t gain the cursed freshmen fifteen in college, but now I’m humbled. I got to gain the post-grad ten instead.
Weight Watchers has been great, but since I’m starting grad school in the fall and my disposable income will decrease dramatically, I’ve decided not to renew my subscription. However, I’m still going to stick to the diet and see if I can take off another 5-6 pounds. Why would I do this when I loathe dieting? Because I found a two piece that my sister gave me over the summer and I’ve been lusting after it like a crack fiend. Normally, I’m a one piece kind of girl, but I’d like to take a chance on a two piece and see what happens.
Considering how capricious I can be I may very well take two steps outside and say, “Well this isn’t happening.”
My stomach is looking pretty descent now, but I figure 5-6 pounds should get it two piece ready. This week I’m putting the running on hold to do some strength and aerobic training with my uncle who I think views me as the Six Million Dollar Woman (Gentlemen, we can rebuild her.) Wait, there was the Six Million Dollar Man and the Bionic Woman.
Ten pounds took me about 12 weeks to lose so I’m hoping that 5-6 take about 6-7 weeks to lose. Which means I’ll be able to fit the two piece in…July.
Why does that suddenly make me sad?