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I think I'm hungry.

October 8, 2007

That or my body clock just tells me it’s snack time. My stomach and my body clock don’t really agree on when to eat, which is probably half my McFatty problem in the first place. OK, maybe more than half.

Speaking of McFatty, I’ve been trying to eat well and have taken long, brisk walks every other day for the past three weeks now with no signs of improvement. Lovely. Nothing like trying to do something (shed pounds and general mass) and flat-out failing.

To top it off, my body (or my bathroom scale) was playing a sick trick on me. I’d be down 2 lbs. one day, then be up those same stinking 2 lbs. the next. Sick, I tell ya.

I’ve been a bit frantic about it, which is why I’ve been weighing myself twice a day sometimes. You see, I have this maid-of-honor dress I’m scheduled to wear on Oct. 12 (THIS Friday), and I have excessive boobage, causing me to squish out of the top.

Since I know the first place I lose (and gain) weight is my chest, I knew I had to drop 5 lbs. to look good in the dress. Well, to not squish out of it, at least. The rest fits fine, just not my upper torso.

So in my desperation, I have resorted to my pre-wedding diet, South Beach Diet, phase 1. It’s a diet that pretty much cuts out all carbs, sugar included. My “allowed” foods? Lean protein, lots of veggies, some fats and … you know what? I think that’s all I’m allowed.

It’s not the easiest of diets, and it’s certainly not the most satisfying (that’s how I got here in the first place, though), but it sure does get results. As of this morning, I have lost 4 lbs. since Saturday morning. Take that, evil bathroom scale! And I’m already down some in the chest department, too.

I know I won’t stick with South Beach and that it’s just a quick fix, but I have started to think that I need to actually attend Weight Watchers meetings rather than tell myself I’m going to do it on my own only to give it a half-ass attempt because I’m the only one holding myself accountable.

Something’s got to change, that’s for sure. I have too many clothes I can no longer fit in just begging to be worn. And I’m too cheap to buy more just because I’m bigger. Plus, that’d be giving into the fat, which I don’t want to do. I want to get rid of it, not reward it with new clothes.

In any case, it’s certainly a battle. But at least it’s one I know I can win.

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