So here’s the thing: you’d think after ten weeks of virtually no sweets there’d be some more progress in the fight against the flab. You’d think that, but you’d be wrong, sort of. Maybe even mostly.
I know some weight has come off. I don’t have to hitch my jeans up as high to button and zip them. My face is a bit thinner. I can’t grab as much cheek (either set). But I’m feeling a bit discouraged that the changes aren’t more dramatic. I know one missing element is regular exercise, and the only thing that’s been regular about it lately is how often I haven’t done any. I get out for walks every once in a while, but it’s not the four to six times per week that I did a few years ago, and it’s not the same level of intensity.
I’m not giving up yet, however, and I’m not looking to sweeties for comfort in my current distress. It’s time to get a plan in place and get after it. I can do this. It’s time to woman up.