Marching On

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I didn’t forget I have a blog. I swear. And no, I haven’t finished my novel. In fact, I recently had a authorial crisis and went back to square one.

I know. I suck.

During December, I loosened the reins a little. It was effort to keep me from feeling deprived, because let’s face it. When I feel deprived, I snap and binge on ALL. THE. FOODZ. It worked for December. I didn’t lose my damn mind and only ate little bits of dairy, sugar and grains.

And the January hit and I swear, I meant to start a Whole 30 on 1/1/15, but there was a compelling reason that I no longer remember for postponing it. I only gained a few pounds – not too bad. I mean, it is, errr, was the holidays. Midway through January, I decided to reboot via Whole 30. That lasted a whopping 7 days, people. WOW.

After Valentine’s Day, I tried again and this time lasted 3 days. By this point I’d have to try to Whole 30 at least 9 more times, just to get a full 30 days in. So I gave up. Not entirely. I still ate a Paleo diet 3-4 days a week. The other half of the time, I was like an episode of that Guy Fieri show. (Don’t lie, you know you watch that dirty food porn.)

Now, midway through March, I’m looking at the scale going WTF, Jen??? I hit my 50 pound mark. But it took me way too long to do it. So I’m recommitting. I’m not waiting, postponing or writing myself a note. WHOLE 30, bitches. With a pan of raisin bars in my kitchen and a mom’s dinner out planned at a killer local Mexican place. I’ll be ordering a salad and bringing my own balsamic vinaigrette. Because that’s how I roll right now. NO WAY IN HELL I’m losing 50 pounds just to slide down the mountain again. I gave away my bigger jeans. There are no fall back fat pants.

I have to keep pushing forward and that’s not really my strong suit. But I’m tired. I feel like shit. It’s time to get my spring on and shed another 50 pounds. I’m looking forward to buying pants in a size that starts with a 1.

Here’s to beginning again.

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