Son of a Bitch

I look at myself in the mirror and I can't F*cking BELIEVE I let myself get here.

216 guys. 2 mother f*cking 16

My ass is HUGE. My legs are TREE-TRUNKS.

I told myself it would NEVER happen. I would NEVER LET it happen.

And here I am.

I am taking control. I know I've said it, but I have gotten help and I am going to make this work.

No stress, no schedule, no emotion is going to get in the way.

I'm using the MyFitnessPal app, which is actually VERY cool, to send all my food and exercise to my trainer everyday. This is what today looks like: (I know it says tomorrow, but I planned it, logged it, and took the screen shots last night)

I'm very happy with my macros, and so is Luke.

Calories are just over 1600 --

I'll be hitting the gym tomorrow after work with the hubs, then I have a workout slated for Saturday morning.

I am going to plan for each day with food the day before. I am going to do this one day at a time.

These first few days are a little tough because of getting rid of the sugar and caffeine (by default).

TONS of water means TONS of bathroom trips. This will all even out.

Today, after work, I go directly to church to help out at a function on behalf of the music board. After that, I go to my first church council meeting (as music board chair. OMG) and lobby for a church sponsored summer show with our theater company.

No, I'm not stressed at all.

I won't get home till probably 9:30, when I will proceed to fall into bed.

I am filming on Sunday and I am so grossed out with how I look. If I could get away with not doing it, I would. How sad is that? Giving up opportunity because I am unhappy with how I look. Talk about a blast from the past. Sucks.

I'll be back tomorrow.

Keep F*cking Moving Forward...