Alas...
That’s me. I stepped on the scale this morning and the number staring back at me was the same one I saw when I was SIX MONTHS PREGNANT.
That’s it. I’ve had enough. I am sick of running past the mirror so I won’t get a glimpse of my reflection. I want to be me, again – fearfully and wonderfully made (and fine as wine).
The problem is, though, I love food. I am from the South and if you cut me, I will bleed hot, buttered grits. It's true, I do eat when I’m stressed and what not, but mainly I eat because I love food. Period.
I’ve tried all the diets out there. Heck, I could write my own diet book. I know all the tips intellectually, but for some reason they haven’t sunk down inside my heart and mind.
Today, though, I am starting my journey towards being high-school skinny. I am too young, 37, and have too many things I want to do to be slowed down by weight.
All kinds of problems come along with weight issues like high blood pressure, disease and premature death. I think it’s a sin to go to an early grave just because you don’t have self control.
For example, for the longest I thought I was losing my mind because I would constantly hear a whishing noise when I walked and felt an eerie presence behind me. Well, as it turns out, it was my big ‘ole butt the whole time. That sound is my thighs rubbing together (when I wear pantyhose it’s probably a fire hazard) and that “presence” is the mound of round flesh attached to my back. I look like I am pregnant with twins FROM BEHIND!!!
I plan to get through this journey with faith (in Christ) and lots of laughter. So follow along with me so that together we can learn to be high-school skinny, again.
