After the third weigh-in, it becomes pretty clear that there is no miracle reduction coming and the next 6 to 12 months is going to be a big old drag. Aside from amputation, I'm looking at around 1 to 2 pounds a week. If I can stay strong.
I'm not too worried to be honest. With fewer years ahead of me than behind me, I figure this is probably going to be one of my last good cracks at getting this right, before I entirely give in to the body of a hippo.
It helps to keep busy. With my type of job and having a 3 year old (with all their arms) at home, these two elements certainly aid that criterion. And add the objective of doing these bleeding cartoons every day - there isn't very much time left to eat and drink.
"You were a stupid idiot for committing to that' said my mother in another of her motivational asides to me. Yes, maybe - but as I've mentioned before, having a tangible goal that isn't just about pretending the fridge isn't there is surprisingly effective at occupying time.
Onwards and inwards.
Hey I’m dieting too. Where’s my motivational speech?