This is NOT a fucking resolution

Get your act together. I've been thinking lately, and boy is that a horrible thing to do. Every year, every month, hell, even every week I think to myself, "It is time." And every time, I look at myself in the mirror and think that I should just live with it. But now, I have a sense of foreboding. A sense of impending doom. That I just have to bite the bullet. Take the bull by the horns. Stir the pot. Shit or get off the toilet. Do you understand what I'm getting at? Do you??

Because I do. Because I'm the effing genius who decided to write a 40 Before 40. With goals. And a due date. And the days keep on going by. That date gets closer and closer. Even though it's 5.5 years away. I'm figuring this will take that long to complete.

Today I am making a concrete plan for one of my, ahem, items. It is such a large undertaking. I have to break it down into miniature goals. I just cannot NOT do it this way. It isn't going to be easy. It isn't going to be fun. At all. And I know the benefits will be worth it all. But can we just go ahead and shoot me now?

Oooh, alright. Fine.

Human beings are animals. Filthy, dirty, ritualized, animals. Our bodies are hard wired to store fat so that during times of less abundance, we can stay alive. Mother nature needs to hire an electrician because this shit is just too old now. Guffaw! Yeah. Right. Your fat, lazy ass got you here in the first place. Unlazy yourself.

So. Here's the problem. I'm 40 pounds overweight. My goal is to get back to my pre-pregnancy weight. I have 5 years to do so. But, the sooner the better, right? January is when this starts. I know that shitty song is ringing in your head like an earworm and you don't even know the words. But everybody is doing it.

The plan is breaking it all down into bite sized goals that are easier to swallow. January? 5 pounds.

Action: Get off my lazy ass. Tone It Up. Yoga. Bicycling. Jogging.

Jogging.

Jogging.

Heeeeey while I'm at it I may as well start training for a full 5K run.

I'm getting ahead of myself.

Or not.

And no. I'm not taking pictures and posting them here. Not yet anyway. Shut up. I know you just want me for my body.