Okay, this is getting ridiculous. All day, every day I think about my weight. How much I weigh, how much I used to weigh, how much I need to lose. How do I look? Do people think I'm thin or fat? Am I being too hard on myself? Not hard enough?
So here I am, on the day after Memorial Day with the clock ticking slowly (but loudly) to my fortieth bithday. The big 40. 394 days away.
40 has become not so much an age, but a deadline. Life is still good at 40. Hell, it'll probably be much better. But, at what point to I stop looking down (at my belly flab, my stretch marks, my thigh jiggle) and start looking out? And up?

So, I'm going to make a goal of losing 35 pounds by my fortieth birthday. I'm ready to put the self-consciousness of a high school clarinet player behind me.

I want to leave my fat-centric viewpoint at the doormat of 39 and not carry it into the threshold of 40.

Do I expect to lose my stretch marks? Nope. Do I think I'll always have a respectable bit of tummy blub? Absolutely. Will I have the thigh gap? Probably not. Do I think the thigh gap is important? NO! I think it makes women look like cartoon Thanksgiving turkeys, wobbling around on crispy, bony legs.
But, now is the time to act. Now is the time to take my life into my own hands. Now is the time to figure out why I eat ravenously at night. Why can't I stop myself from diving into the peanut butter jar whenever I've had more than one glass of wine?

I guess we should start with some ground rules

1) I will track every thing that goes in my mouth. Even the eighth of the barbecue sandwich that the nice lady in the hairnet at Publix waved temptingly under my nose. Everything. Even if it's shameful.

2) I'm going to go the Low Carb/ High Fat route. Sounds nutso, huh? But after reading The Big Fat Surprise  by Nina Teicholz, I really think it's the way to go. If you're reading this (and I realize I'm proabably talking to myself here), you need to read that book

3) Exercise. Sigh. I hate it. BUT, if I'm going to get anywhere, I'm going to have to start. But not today. I have a cold that has a nasty tendency to turn into bronchitis, so I'm going to start after I'm healed. Swear to God, I have a cold. I promise. You can smell the Vapo-rub from here.

4) I'm going to try my damnedest to refrain from eating after 8pm (or okay, 8:30).

5) I'm going to try to get enough rest.

6) I'm going to give myself a break. No one looks like Giselle. Even Giselle doesn't look like Giselle.

7) I'm not going to give myself too many breaks. There's a little demon in my head who says "You've been so good this week.... you deserve that entire Pizza Hut cheese and mushroom pie with Peruvian cherry peppers and pretzel crust." She must be stopped. No seriously, the bitch must die.

8) I'm only going to weigh once a week. It's tempting to weigh after a particularly successful day. Or after a really big poo. But I'm going to resist. It's all part of that "giving myself a break" thing.

Let's just start with those for now.

How is this time going to be different, I ask? I've gained and lost and gained and lost. Weight Watchers, Dukan (which is a crock of shit, by the way), Cabbage Soup, Wheat Belly, French Women Don't Get Fat (which is also a crock of merd), all promised the skinny sliver of the moon.

I'm hoping on this (third) attempt at a blog I can drum up a little social pressure to help me on my way.

So..... here goes.

Day 1- 198.6 pounds. Waist size- 38 inches.

Carbs so far : 23.4.