No. Not really. Because then you would click away from this blog and never, ever return. And I’ve worked far to hard to get the readers I do have to keep coming back for more of whatever it is I’m dishing out around here. So, you’re safe from my stretchies.
But not from pictures of me in my borderline too-tight (but still comfy) yoga pants. I love yoga pants. Because they are forgiving and comfortable and they do not pinch and make me feel all muffin-top-ish and heifer-like.
So, yeah. That’s me, people. All 198 lbs of me. Yep. That’s right. For those of you who’ve been following this McFatty Wagon, that’s a full five whopping pounds ABOVE pregnancy-weight (which I was BELOW a mere 5ish weeks ago…) and close to the biggest I’ve ever been.
I have no energy. But I can’t sleep, either. So something’s got to give.
So I’m giving weight. To whom and for what? I have no idea. It’s not like it’s a gift anyone wants to get (though it IS a gift I got for Christmas, despite my previously mentioning not receiving anything. Thanks, Dan, for the delicious foods you fed me. [and yes, that’s a serious thanks and not a sarcastic one.])
I also have this self-defeating mentality to give up, too. And that’s going to be harder to lose than the weight, I think. I talk myself out of doing things like this because despite however bold and outgoing I am about some things, I’m really afraid to put myself out there and fail in a public manner.
The thought of running a 5K makes me want to cry.
That’s ridiculous, right?
Even now, at my heaviest, I know I could WALK a 5K. Would I be winded? Yes, probably. Would I take longer than many people to finish? Yes, probably.
But run a 5K? Me? The girl who only runs if she’s being chased? Why does this scare me so much?
No matter how afraid of this I am, today I took the first step. I called the gym this morning and I went up there to cash in on my Groupon.
(And the girl on the phone was pleasant BEFORE she knew I was a potential new customer. It wasn’t like fake-pleasant-“Oh you’re a New Year’s Resolution customer so I’ll sweet talk you and get you in here and then be mean and you’ll stop coming but be humiliated and forget to cancel your membership and we’ll take your moneys forevah!!!!” So that’s something, right?)
I went up to the gym after work and toured the facility and I’ve got an appointment tomorrow with a personal trainer for a fitness consultation. That means he’s going to weigh and measure me and make me do, like, jumping jacks or something, to assess my heart rate and all that other stuff. And he’s going to be doing this EVERY. SINGLE. WEEK.
I’m slightly freaked out, y’all. But not so freaked out that I’m going to stop before I give it a start. I mean, that’s the least I can do for myself, you know? Give this a chance.
So, that’s what I’m going to do.