After a long, awkward silence, I usually do a sort of a sheepish laugh. My sister does it too. It’s kind of a quiet, awkward, “hahahahaha…” sort of laugh.

So let me just do that now.


Yes, it’s been awhile. I don’t mean to disappear but I run out of words sometimes. Okay, not so much run OUT of words, but instead of writing my words, I think my words. I think my words and then I can’t sleep. I can’t sleep because of all the words spinning through my head. And then I get an idea of how I want to put my words and I come crawling back to the blog, all sheepish and silly-like, and promise to do better in the future.

Lather, rinse, repeat. And here we find ourselves yet AGAIN.

When last we left, I was no longer a Christian. Granted, that had happened WAY before that post, but still. Those were the last words I shared.

Since then, much has happened:

-I moved in with my friend Paul and have discovered the joys of living with a boy (hint: VIDEO GAMES)
-Linds came for an extended, much-anticipated vacation.
-The economy was tanking, allowing my job to give me a permanent, not-at-all-anticipated, vacation. A vacation that does not allow me to live the life to which I had grown accustomed, a fact that is more and more evident as I approach $0 in my checking account.
-Slim and I went to the Great North for Passover, where I participated in my first Seder and met the extended family.
-Baseball season started! Hooray! Go Yankees!
-I got fat.

Being unemployed, especially unexpectedly, puts a girl in the position of having options. She can either use her free time to play outside, exercise, breathe fresh air, and cook delicious and healthful food…OR…she can sit on her sofa, pantsless, eating miniature candy bars and throwing the wrappers on the floor, one after the other, while wallowing.

You guys. I wallowed.

In other news, last Friday night Slim and I were going on a double date with a couple we’d not yet been out with. I’m not sure what it is about being in a relationship that makes you desperate to find couple-y friends to double date with, but we’re no exception to that anomaly. So I was all excited, getting ready for our date with a new(!) couple. Seattle has officially welcomed Spring and the weather was perfect for a pretty sun dress and a jean jacket.

Enter my ass. Well, that’s not entirely true. The dress went up over the ass. It even went up over the stomach (ish). However, the zipper was no match for my…ahem…abilities. Sure enough, the zipper went on strike in the middle of my rib cage. I think I heard it groan, although that might have been me.

You guys. YOU GUYS. That dress FIT last summer. It fit beautifully last summer. And the saddest part? I bought it because NONE of my other dresses fit (they were, alas, too small).

I’ve never claimed to be good at math, but even I know that this equals NO GOOD. It was my come to Jesus moment and, if you read the previous post, you know that must mean A LOT.

So I have to do something. I was having tea last night with my darling friend Urmy Urmy La La, who has recently lost a ton of weight and is currently training for a half-marathon. Urmy got me excited months ago about getting into shape and eating healthfully, but I lost all of that motivation when I lost my job. I decided to confess all my sins to Urmy and have her be straight with me about what I should do next. She made me come with her to her house (WALKING, not driving, from the tea shop, a whole 2 BLOCKS) and armed me with some very light dumbbells, an exercise guide, and a Caramello Koala. (Yes, I know. I KNOW. But chocolate! Caramel! In the shape of a koala! WHAT ABOUT THAT IS NOT AWESOME??) She and I also pinky-swore that I would start logging everything I ate on the website she swears by,

I got home, put the dumbbells in the corner, tucked the exercise guide into my bookcase, and promptly devoured the cute and delicious koala. As I licked the caramel off of my fingers, I SWORE to myself that I would start fresh the next morning, faithfully putting good things into my body and logging everything on Gyminee.

I know me though. I need more motivation. I need more accountability.

So here I am. I’m going to chronicle my Whatever*. I’m going to let you guys see me through the laughter, sweat, blood, tears, and stretch marks. I’m going to be brutally honest with myself and lay things out honestly. And you can give me hell if I disappear again.

Here’s more motivation: as I sat on the floor with a too-small sun dress crumpled around my middle, defeated by my own body, I realized I’d been thinking/worrying/stressing about my weight for 16 years. I went on my first diet at age 12, y’all. Enough is enough.

Next up?
I’m going to weigh myself and (gasp) BROADCAST my results to the internets. That’s right, guys. Things just got CRAZY in here.

I’m ready for a fight. The pants? They are off!

(Maybe because they no longer fit, but still. GARRY OWEN!)

*One might use the word ‘journey,’ but as I am a fierce believer that the word ‘journey’ should only be used when someone has decided not to stop believin’, I’m going to call this my ‘whatever’.