My body thinks it’s so clever. Yesterday I weighed in at 262, pretty awesome. Today though, 265, on the dot. Super funny, body. I can feel my belly jiggling in mirth. I would not call this one of my top 10 awesome sensations. We’ll see who’s laughing tomorrow, when that pudgy jerk is giving me puppy eyes after it realizes I’m feeding it broccolli. All day. No cheat day for you, motherfucker.
Boxing this week was something else. I felt so gloriously sore the next day I honestly couldn’t wait to make you all sit through my recounting of each blissfully aching muscle. However, I woke up this morning with a heinous kink in my neck, and it hurts so badly that every time I tilt my head more than 15 degrees I’m pretty sure I forget how to do long division. It’s like someone turned my spinal column into a hairpin turn. There was more to that, but it got kind of gruesome, and I’m oddly having trouble making a joke out of traffic fatalities today, so we’ll leave it at hairpin turn.
So here we go. I’ve broken cheat days before, that’s easy; you just eat shitty foods on days that aren’t Saturday. I’ve never eliminated it, though. I have a strange feeling that this is going to be a real fat test. Every chubby craving or thought I would have was easily mitigated by telling myself to “wait for Saturday.” I’m slightly anxious to see if I can keep it up without that buffer.
I’ve felt so fat recently, I don’t know why. It’s not like I’ve ballooned up in weight; I just think my horrible self-esteem and body-image issues have caught up with me. This marathon of health couldn’t have come at a better time.