My weight is a roller-coaster ride on crack. You may see me one day and think, "Damn, she's lost a lot of weight...looking good," then a month or two later think, "What the hell happened to her?" It's a neverending cycle with me. I get fed up with my weight. Fed up with nothing in my closet fitting my fat ass, so then I, for the zillionth time, get back to my Weight Watcher's diet...lose a lot of weight...start feeling good about myself...good enough to feel like it won't hurt to have a burger or two...then before I know it I am right back where I started. Then I get fed up and the cycle starts all over again.
I was doing so well with exercising regularly, then I got a cold, got off track, and never went back. Bye-bye firm thighs. Okay, so my thighs weren't exactly firm, but if I were to jump up and down, there definitely were fewer jelly jumps. Now...I don't even want to talk about it. I'm disgusted with myself.
One of my biggest problems is finishing up whatevever the kids don't eat. And let me tell you...these kids love peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, but so do I, and they always leave just enough for me to get my peanut butter fix. I'll eat my healthy turkey on wheat sandwich, then polish off their pb&j's.
I need an intervention.
