Skip to main content

It seems only appropriate to say: GOOOOOOOOOOALLLLLL!

I did it. I lost fifteen pounds. (Fifteen and a half, in fact, and it's still a week before we go to Florida.)

Woohoo for me!

It has been strangely easy. Well, the first five pounds were hard, because it was a lot of effort for not-yet-noticeable results. Success became its own motivator after about eight pounds, when I could think to myself: Yes, you could have a cheeseburger for lunch instead of a salad, but that would undo some of the good you've done. Do you really want to start this process all over again? On the other hand, I've also made sure to give myself a break once in a while. If the family wants pizza for dinner, we'll get a pizza and I'll have two slices. I'm definitely going to have some of my homemade ice cream, or a slice of banana bread. What I don't do is turn every "treat" into a crisis -- Well, I ate an Oreo, so there's no point in eating right for the rest of the week. Forget this, I'm done.

One thing that bugs me, and this is vain and silly, is that no one (other than my husband) has noticed. No one has stopped me in the hall at work and said, "Hey, have you lost weight?" I mean, it's great for me to realize that my formerly favorite pair of khakis now won't stay up, even with a belt; it's fun to buy three super-cute t-shirts from a store that I couldn't shop in three months ago. A little bit of external validation would be nice too, though. Maybe it's too soon for that.

So my next goal -- fifteen more pounds by back-to-school (August 16). (An aside -- doesn't that seem insanely early for back-to-school?) I'll keep you posted! Now I'm off to eat (yet another) salad.

Comments

aimee said…
Yay!!!!!!!!!!!

Good for you Krista! I would certaintly notice...I hope you post a picture. That really is awesome!

Oh and my kids go back August 12th. Sheesh.
Karen said…
Good for you. Yes, post a picture so we all can see.

I think that both the 12th and the 16th are early! Of course, in Texas, the date is a very much later August 23!!!
Chris said…
You're a hottie. A total MILF (Mother I'd Like to Facebook)

Popular posts from this blog

the closet

Amy has challenged me to list 8 things that are hidden in the back of my closet. I try not to actually look to closely at the back of my closet, so these are my closest guesses: 1. At least three no-longer-needed diaper bags. 2. An outfit that I've been meaning to return to Land's End for at least six months now. 3. One of our wedding pictures, which has a broken frame which I keep meaning to replace. 4. Shoes, shoes, shoes, shoes. 5. Possibly a pair of fuzzy slippers. I miss those fuzzy slippers. Maybe I should brave the mess and go try to find them. 6. Baby blankets. 7. A few small toys that I meant to stick in the girls' Christmas stockings. Maybe next year. 8. And I'm guessing, a bunch of mismatched socks. My closet isn't very interesting, I'm afraid.

It's what's for dinner

One of the things that I failed to appreciate about my mom until I left home is that she always made dinner (although I think we called it supper then), by which I mean, something hot, usually involving a vegetable. I don't remember my mom ever saying sheepishly to her hungry spouse and offspring, "I don't feel like cooking, how about a bowl of cereal?" I hate making dinner. Haaate it. It's my least favorite chore. It's not necessarily because I can't cook. I can usually manage to create something edible, although I have yet to perfect the science of getting, say, the chicken and the broccoli and the rice and the rolls all ready at the same time. (There are those among you who may be surprised that I make and serve broccoli. It's true! It's best when roasted: Toss with olive oil and salt, spread on a baking sheet, put in 400 degree oven for about 8 minutes. It's delicious! Delicious as broccoli can be, at least.) It's also not necessarily t...

Little sisters

Mallory was invited for a sleepover tonight; this morning, as she was packing her suitcase, Phoebe came in and said, "Me too!" When Chris found her suitcase, and gently told her that she wasn't invited to the sleepover, she cried for an hour. I think I'll always have a special sort of sympathy for Phoebe, my second child, because I was the second child too*. (And it's odd, because although I have younger siblings as well, I always think of myself as a little sister, or as the younger older sister, if that makes sense. I think that's because Jana, my big sister, was so good at being the oldest, responsible and, uh, authoritarian, and I am, well, fundamentally irresponsible. We all bowed to her! In a good way. I could never live up to that.) I often feel sorry for Phoebe, left behind while Mallory goes to school all day, because I well remember the long, lonely boring days I spent waiting for Jana to come home from school (not counting the days I spent playing i...