Yes, I'm afraid everyone in the family is in some kind of mourning this evening.
The littles are mourning the Christmas tree and decorations which were put away today.
The cats are mourning the loss of their sparkly tether balls.
Steve is mourning the coming end of his holiday work schedule.
Sarah is mourning the complete lack of snow anywhere in the forecast which might postpone school starting again on time.
And I am mourning being able to junk out on whatever I want with the excuse that it's Christmas and calories don't count during the holidays.
Of course, with Christmas having passed we are left with a few more days left in the year. Which means New Year's. Which means resolutions that are made with all the intentions of breaking them within a week.
Normally I don't bother with New Year's resolutions because I have the willpower of a feather and the attention span of a ... oh look... shiny!
Yeah. Those of us who frequently get distracted by our own shadows tend to suffer from a terminal case of Start-itis. Making resolutions is kind of like giving a cat half a bag of catnip and then dropping it in a room full of crystal figurines while the sun is beaming through a window. Sure it starts out entertaining as all get out, but sooner or later there will be much crashing and mass destruction. This is usually followed by the subject of said experiment looking around and trying to remember what the original goal was, then spotting another sparkly distraction dart across a random wall. (Which, arguably, could be just as entertaining.)
Where was I going with this again?
Well this year I'm actually going to be making a resolution. Not because I'm a focused individual with delusions of self-improvement or because the world will be a better place if I would just buckle down and do my part. Nope. I'm doing it because my clothes don't fit anymore and there is NO ONE who wants to see this hanging out in places it wasn't meant to hang out.
..... what? Just sayin'.
See, I got put on Lyrica this summer and it appears that I'm going to be on Lyrica the rest of my life. Yay? No. Not really. One of the myriad of side effects that Lyrica boasts is nearly guaranteed weight gain for the poor soul forced to take it.
That in and of itself is bad enough, but I have no discretion whatsoever when it comes to food. I eat what I want when I want. This generally means that when I get the munchies, instead of making a sandwich or a bowl of soup, I'm likely to make a mug of hot chocolate and call that lunch. When it comes to dinner, if I'm not in the mood to put forth any effort to heat up vegetables or cook meat, I'll just grab a bowl of cereal. Sitting at the computer just seems to attract small chocolates and working on cross stitch projects absolutely requires tiny and neat fingerfoods such as M&Ms. If I had a dietician, they'd have a heart attack for me.
So Lyrica and my diet met, apparently fell in love, married, and are now bearing fruit and multiplying my pounds. Alot.
This doesn't work for me.
About that New Year's resolution. Since Lyrica entered my life and became an in-law I have gained 40 pounds (give or take). I was already 15 pounds heavier than I wanted to be.
I just found out that I have been hired on with a great company and my training is scheduled to begin at the end of January. Company policy requires dress slacks or dress/skirt and classy blouse.
I also just found out that I can no longer fit into any article of clothing that would meet company policy. I found this out by trying a couple of outfits on and noticing a distinct similarity between my reflection and my 15 pound cat trying to sleep in a Kleenex box. There was alot of ... overflow.
I refuse to admit defeat and buy more clothing, but I know darned well that if I'm left to my own devices Start-itis will flare up and I won't last two weeks before a new shiny distracts me.
This is where y'all come in. Starting tomorrow I'm going to bore you with weekly updates on my weight. If I miss a week, you guys have the task of shaming me into posting my weight again to see if it's going down like it's supposed to. I may even get courageous and post pics every couple of weeks to see if there's any visible progress.
I've bought all sorts of salad makings and those Atkins shakes to keep my body from mutinying too badly when I start wearing out the TreadClimber. Between those and my dark chocolate I should be good to go!
What do you mean I can't have my dark chocolate??
Not at all?!?