Being fat sucks
…for me. My thighs have declared war on each other. (That really rubs me the wrong way!) The pressure of my waistband keeps reminding me of when my belly was horrifically sliced open. (C-section.) When baby sits on my arm, he isn’t sitting so much as leaning against me at a 45 degree angle. (Pear shaped!) And most importantly, I don’t like looking into the mirror and thinking “Meh.” (Something like this would be better: “Oh you breathtakingly gorgeous diva empress queen! That sexy cartoon character from Who Framed Roger Rabbit’s got nothing on you!” *starts making out with reflection*)
So it’s… *drumroll please* DIET TIME!
Oh, kill me now…
No. No. That’s not the attitude we’re going for.
I have now (FINALLY!!!) figured out my MBTI type, so I have time for a new non-baby-related obsession. (If anyone dares to doubt my
INFP INTP ENTP INFJ INTJ ISFP INTP INTJ ISFP INTP INFP INTP INFP INTP INFP INTP INFP INTP INFP INTP ENTP INFP ENFP INFP ISFP INTP INFP INFJ INTP INFJ INTP ISFP ISTP INFP INTP INFP INTP INFP INTP INFP INTP INFP INTP INFP INTP INFP INTP ISFP INTJ INTP INFJ INFP ISFP INFP INTP INFP INTP ISFP INFP INTP INFP ISFP ISTP ISFP INFP INTP INTJ INTP ISTP INTP INFP INTP INFJ INTP INFP ISTP INFP INTP ISTP ISFP ISTP INTP INFP ISFP INTP INFP INTP INFP INTP ISFP INTP ISTP ISFP INFP ISFP INFP ISFP ISTP INTJ INTP ISFP INFP INTP INFP ISFP INFP INTP ISFP INFP INTP INFP ISFP INFP INTP INFP INTJ INFP INTP INFP INTP ISFP INTJ ISFP INFP INTP INFP INTP INFP ISFP INTP INFP ISFP INFP ISFP INTP ISFP INFP INTP INFP ISFP INFP INTP ISFP INTP INFP INTP INFP ISFP INTP ISFP INFP ISFP INFP INTP ISFP INFP INTP INFP INTP ISFP INTP INFP ISFP INTP INFP INTP INFP INTP INFP INTP INFP INTP*-ness, I will hunt you down with a machete. Ok, frying pan. Don't actually have a machete. Wouldn’t that be cool though? When you’re at a social gathering (HA!) you could just casually mention your newly sharpened machete. People would assume you’re terrifyingly insane and would never try to borrow sugar from you. Actually I wouldn’t come after you with a frying pan either. Too much trouble. But I’d be seriously annoyed and send evil thoughts your way!)
So, diet time it is…
Here is my brilliant plan:
1) No alcohol. *sob*
2) Three meals a day. No food in between. (Water/tea/coffee is ok.)
3) Make a big pot of green tea every morning and drink it all the same day.
4) Go out with baby every day. (The grocery store just around the corner doesn’t count.)
5) Weigh myself every morning.
6) Don’t eat or drink anything I wouldn’t want baby to eat or drink. (I.e. not too much sugar/salt/fat, but lots of veggies and fruit.) (One exception: coffee.)
7) (My favorite one!) For every kilo I lose, I get to buy a BOOK! *squee!!* That way I can look down at my big, fat belly, and instead of becoming depressed and eating three bars of chocolate (What? Chocolate does a happy-hormone-thingy!) I can look down and go: “Awesome! Twenty new books!!”
*31. December 2017: I am done. No more.