61 days, that's 8 almost 9 weeks since I started my "healthy living" crusade and nothing... nothfucking? So I fumbled a meal, maybe 3 but I lassoed that wagon back FAST and jumped on again. Prince of peace, I quit smoking, please forgive me! What's with the severe punishment? I'm not understanding what else, short of a fat sucking lipo procedure, I have to do?!?!
Exercise?? eeew. I had hoped my heavy, fun bags, would have shrunk some by now so that I could do some cardio without any torso, facial and pride damage. Obviously, after stepping on the scale, it's not happening. What is happening is, I'm becoming homicidal.
I guess my walking everywhere because I cant afford a car or the insurance love mother earth so much isn't working. I walk at the pace of an injured sloth and I window shop, hunt for my kids, trip joggers, talk to myself, pet mean dogs, forget where I am going, jump on passing buses, et cetera, et cetera. so little to no calories are being burned this way. My new addendum for this mission is... to take up running.
whatthefuck? I scare myself.
The last time I ran, I was playing kickball for hours and hours and at one point the next day I thought I had passed out with 2 broken ankles and woke up with breast cancer. So I'm dramatic, shut it, (once I was elbowed so hard with such great force that I had a lump for several months that lump became a breast cancer scare till I remembered I was elbowed, that hard with great force, several months before) nevertheless, I was that sore. At least now I know I gotta ease into this running, I'm a jock, thing. Wrestle with a sports bra until it looks like I'm smuggling a log safely against my chest every morning and take it to the streets for a hasty little stroll. Work my way up to a fast walk, then perhaps start skipping till I can trust galloping safely then before we all know it I am running like everyone's buddy, Forrest Gump. Watch me.
