So, I got into this diet and exercise thing this Spring as a beach/spending most of the summer in a bathing suit prep, and I did great. Exercised every day, ate really well, lost a bunch of weight (for me), it was great. And then we went to the beach in early July and I said screw the diet, this is vacation, and I never went back. And predictably, I did go back, to just about where I started.
Which sucks. It isn't a surprise, of course, but I had been fooling myself into thinking I had held off at least a couple of pounds.
And the thing that really pisses me off is that I was enjoying it. I loved exercising every day again, I liked how much better I felt when I ate less crap and less overall. It honestly was its own reward, and I don't know why I stopped.
Chris and I are taking our first ever trip away from the kids for our 10th wedding anniversary this Fall. We leave six weeks from today. (As always, if you want to break into my house while we are away, the blue rug and the inlaid screen in the living room are by far the most valuable things in the house - bring a friend and a dolly though, those buggers are heavy.) And so I'm going back on the wagon today to see if six weeks from today I can be closer to my wedding weight than my 38 weeks pregnant with child #1 weight.
There isn't that far to go. Ten pounds would be great, fifteen would probably be pushing it, twenty would definitely be too much. And just to motivate myself with shame, here's where I'm starting.
I'm taking tips, if you have any.