Now I know why women's clothing sizes aren't in inches.

I've been looking at those numbers again, and one seems to bother me more than the rest. 38. 38?!?!? My waist is a 38! You know who else has a 38 waist? Guys do. Fat guys do. I couldn't find a female size 38 in almost every clothing store at the mall, with exception to lane bryant or ugly old lady clothing stores. You know the ones - the mannequins in the windows look like they are modeling the latest nursing home fashions found in your sunday morning newspaper ads. But I don't shop there. I shop at Charlotte Russe and Gap. But a size 38 waist means, in reality, I shouldn't be.

On a brighter note, I have been extremely good about limiting my portions and eating ridiculously healthy. Saying no to seconds and bad stuff isn't proving a problem thus far. But I am having a lot of trouble drinking enough water. I know I'm dehydrating myself, but I'm just not thirsty. And when I drink when I'm not thirsty, I feel so full and bloated and it feels so gross and sloshy inside my stomach. It makes me sick. I found out I should be drinking 120 oz. of water a day. Are you kidding me? If all I did was work out in the heat and eat jalepenos all day, I couldn't drink that much. I barely get 25 oz. a day, if I'm being honest. This is going to be tough...

I was thinking that I needed a photo for "before and afters." So I tried on my swim suit. Barf. Not going to happen. If I'm the one taking the picture, I just can't help but delete it immediately when I see how horrific it is. I think it will take someone taking it of me and keeping it and not letting me see it until I have lost a significant amount of weight. Ugh...sounds painful. I'd rather have a root canal.

The Numbers

I am slightly mortified to have to post numbers for the world (in reality, like two people) to see. The feeling is equivalent to a gynecological exam or letting someone watch me take (in Kristen's words) a glorious shit. Kristen came over to measure me today, and I couldn't even stand for Travis to be in the room while the "examination" took place. That's what it felt like. But my measurements turned out not to be as horrific as I had feared, thank goodness. However one fear was confirmed - I'm not only overweight, but I am obese. Silver lining: only slightly. Overweight is looking pretty good about now, and I can see the light at the end of that tunnel. Baby steps. Obese today, overweight next week, fit before I know it.

Living to eat or eating to live?

This is my first blog, and it's going to be about weight loss. I'm hoping that if I invite others to read it, I'll be accountable to them instead of just to myself. I'm the kind of person you can count on to do what I say I'm going to do. I'm counting on that personality trait to help force me into getting in shape. If I tell myself I'm going to lose weight, and then I don't, oh, well. But if I tell the world, then I'd better damn well have something to show for it. I don't know how much I weigh or any of my measurements, and I don't know how to do this blog thing, but I'm going to figure it out and come back and get this thing started.

It's a new day in my life. I feel like a different person than I was two weeks ago. From now on I'm eating to live instead of living to eat. I'm tired of people telling me how pretty I am. It's always, yeah, you're overweight, but you're still pretty! I don't want to be "still pretty." I want to be just plain pretty without the buts. Scratch that, I want to be smokin'. And not because somebody can see past how big I am, but because my hotness is all they see in the first place. Is that too much to ask? It's going to happen. Right here and now, I promise you. There, now I've said it, so now I have to do it. Time to suck it up and make this thing happen. Here we go...