This Means WAR!!!

I saw a repost on Facebook yesterday that said, "You know what I got for Christmas? FAT, that's what I got, I got FAT!" It was adorably placed over an extremely overweight cat sitting there like a blob after it probably just cleaned it's own hind end. Well, kids, here is me, the fat cat that got even more fat for Christmas. It wasn't just Christmas, it was Thanksgiving, the couple of weeks before Thanksgiving, and the month before that... I didn't just get fat last week, much as I would like to think that is true. Don't get me wrong, I have had some fun the past few months. It is fun to drink with my buddies. It's fun to cook naughty food for friends/family. You know what's not fun, the anxiety I feel every time I go to get dressed, praying that my pants will still fit. It's not fun to get hit on by the over 40, overweight, DJ at the local watering hole because I'm still just fat enough to attract that guy. It isn't fun to realize that you are back to being the fat friend at the Christmas parties. It's not fun to daily break promises I make to myself. So, today I waged war. It has been about 2 years since I initially took a stand against my fat, my fat lifestyle, and my fat mindset. That is approximately the exact timeline of when I fell off my fat wagon the last time I lost 100+ pounds. Does history repeat itself?? You bet your sweet patooty it does! But not here, not this time. I can't tell you exactly how much I have gained back because it has been so long since I stepped on my scale I didn't know that the battery was dead. So, when I went to get a starting weight this morning I was surprised/relieved that my scale didn't work. I can, however, tell you that my size 12 pants are tight. Like I should probably consider myself a 14. I am maxing out that little bit of spandex they put in jeans these days. I can tell you that I feel my belly jiggle when I drive down a bumpy road. I can tell you that I notice my spare tire when I sit down. I can tell you that my arm jiggle is rearing it's ugly head when I lift my arms while doing my make-up. I can tell you my face is a little rounder. I can tell you that I feel fat. End of story. Time to actually get serious, not just talk about getting serious. The good news is, I am waging war before I actually have to buy size 14 pants. I am waging war before I have 100+ pounds to lose. I am waging war before New Year's (why wait??). I am waging war before it is T-shirt/tank top season. I am juicing again. I am going to go one month and see how I feel. I'll decide then if I want to do the second month or not. I may switch to eating clean then, or I may forge ahead for four more weeks, stay tuned. As I write this in the afternoon of day one, I can say this. I already feel a little better. I had a slight headache this morning, but that could be a hangover from the grand food send off I so lovingly gave myself last night. I expect my face to break out this week. I expect my skin to look great the week after that. I expect about week three I will get a cold. I expect to lose some inches. I'm adjusting to the juicing for the weekend and I am restarting T-25 on Monday morning. I'm taking my horse to a place where I can ride her tomorrow. I am setting these routines before my classes start again. School/work/photography/holidays have been my priorities the past few months. I got some great things done in those areas. I aced my class, I have some happy photography clients, I'm still gainfully employed. For this next month, those things are gonna get set down a notch on my priority list, one notch behind MY HEALTH. If I'm not healthy, nothing else matters. My war decree. I have been so wrapped up in "being busy" that I have not only let my ass slide, but I have been just existing in my home as well. I waged war on the house today. I started in the kitchen, overhauled the fridge, made a weeks worth of juice, mopped, had laundry going all the while. Living room next. Mail/catalogs/random papers got trashed, blinds got washed, couch got vacuumed, floor got mopped. That's right, I went to battle and won. Not tooting my horn, more like, a shameful admission of how I let stuff go. I'm calling it quits for today, tomorrow is my room and the room of indecision. Look out, I'm on the war path and I'm not quitting until the house and my ass look a lot more presentable. December 28, Day 1 of the Final Fifty World War II.