Big Time

I have decided enough is enough. My body and I are now going to stop being rubbish and make A FUCKING CONCERTED EFFORT to stop being tired, irritable and generally carrying far too much fluid. Also, last night was one of those crossroads moments when you sit, realise you haven’t met a goal and are ready to stop caring. I could have happily taken my Fitbit off and trashed it, and when you hit such a situations, the choices are stark. You get up and move forward, or you don’t. I’ve had enough of this shit, my husband has lost half a stone since the start of the month and my scales just laugh at me. I DON’T CARE. This will not beat me, and I will NOT be beaten.



So, this is what we do. Unless it is tipping with rain it will be a walk to the Gym and back whenever I go. I’m going to start working on posts in the evening so I have mornings free. THERE WILL BE NO SLACKING. I realise I’m fighting hormones as well as cravings so the choice is simple: no more fudging calorie counts. No sneaky midweek cake unless my calories allow it. If I wanna eat, I’m gonna have to work for it, every single damn calorie. Then, and only then, will I move forward. Plus, needs more sweating really, I’m getting complacent with lots of things. I was supposed to have a day off tomorrow but I think I’ll just walk all over London and build up a bazillion calories for dinner with pictures to match.

For now, this is motivation, and my body on notice. Not big or clever, and now we’re going to shift the final weight I want to lose AND IT IS GOING TO HAPPEN OKAY?




GOOD. Carry on.