I Blame Blogger

The last time I posted was over two weeks ago.

Sure, the site may not have been down that entire time, but since I did try to write something yesterday and I couldn't? That totally counts as a valid excuse for not staying in touch.

Well, that and the fact that my reserve duty time didn't exactly leave me bored and alone in a hotel room for any good length of time like most of my trips. I worked all day and partied all night.

I mean, I didn't party every night, but the nights I did party kinda seeped into the nights that I didn't. Because I don't party often. I'm out of practice. Quite the cheap date, I am. Plus, on the night that I partied the hardest? I ended up sitting and crying on a curb.

You do not want to take this old lady to a club. You can now never say I didn't warn you.

Most evenings, I found a way to workout in a new and exciting or much-missed way (Tae Bo with my peeps! Zumba at my old church! Running through the nation's capital!) and then I used that as the ultimate justification to eat like every meal was my last. The cupcakes and the burgers I consumed, alone, were enough to feed a small village. But then I also had to have the Greek restaurant I've always wanted to try and then the Thai I missed eating and the pizza I'd heard so much about and the white chocolate bread pudding and the special strawberry lemonade drink...and, and, and. Yeesh.

I dared to weigh-in at Weight Watchers on the Saturday after my first week was done. It wasn't pretty. So I cried. Yes, again.

This weight loss thing is a beast, yo. I've been meaning to talk about it for a while. Have you ever had the thought that you'd be so happy if you could fit into those skinny jeans just one. more. time?

Well, I didn't have any skinny jeans, but I bought some. At the end of December, right before we left California, BD went with me to Banana Republic and I bought jeans that made me feel like a rockstar. I was 3 pounds from my personal goal and it felt amazing.

A week later, those jeans didn't fit.

Almost 5 months later, I don't think I can get them above my knees.

Maintenance...it's more difficult than I ever anticipated.

I wish I could say that's Blogger's fault, too, but I know it's all me. We moved, I got lazy. Not with working out, really, because I've been into all kinds of things like Bootcamp and Zumba and Double Step and swimming and weights. I even joined a local running group full of crazy people that like to run up hills for an hour.

No, it's not the activity. It's the food.

This place is full of temptation and I've been succumbing on a regular basis.

It's totally unfair that I live walking distance from a Sonic and I've pretty much become a regular at the Dairy Queen and Chick-fil-A up the street.

These place simply did not exist in my small Central Cali coastal town. They're a lot easier to avoid that way, y'know?

I guess it's good that I'm acknowledging this now, before I blink and end up right back at my starting weight. Because I'm totally liable.

I'm up 10 pounds and if you add in those last 3, I've got 13 to go. That sounds like a mountain to me right now. Which is nutty, I know, considering that I'm still at 42 pounds lost. But it does. It seems insurmountable.

If anyone has any advice, I'm listening.

So...I came here to talk about what I've been up to lately (Mother's Day weekend in NYC via bus!, IEP meeting, doctor's appointments, etc.), but I guess this is weighing heavy (ha?) on my mind, so I'm dumping.

I need some motivation.

A kick in the pants.

Some accountability.

Something.

Anything.

Blah.