I finally feel like I’ve stopped failing at my own Experiment, my ass finally went to the gym (and now said ass is sore but that’s neither here nor there). Just getting there was so ridiculously fucking hard for me that I’m really proud that I finally got it done and can now hopefully start making a habit out of it. I don’t know what I think is going to happen there that I get so freaked about going. I mean, there’s no velociraptors on the treadmills or anything.
But just by starting to watch what I eat (up until last week where I discovered that fat food is now served accurately at a diner near my house (and cupcakes, sigh) and went for fancy Indian dinner which I discovered is a lot heavier than my beloved Hurry Chutney and then had grilled fish tacos (good) and a whoopie pie with mascarpone for dessert (. . . yeah) I’ve lost ten pounds. But it’s no joke how going out (besides carefully pre-approved non-diet-fucking venues) will screw your weight loss goals straight to hell. I used to eat like this all the time and it’s why I’m fat now. It was a little reminder for me that if I do what I’ve always done I’ll get what I’ve always gotten so knock it off. So that too was a catalyst to go to the gym as well.