I feel like I'm expanding every moment. Quickly, I'm becoming the Stay-Puffed Marshmallow man - all thick and round in places only babies should be round. My pants are all way too tight, holding down around my hips and bursting rolls above the waistline. My sweater is bursting at the seams trying to contain my ever growing bosom. Even my footfalls are heavy.
I've pretty much stopped exercising at this point. I don't think I've worked out since the first of the year, and I spent the last few weeks eating out with people too often. At home, I survive on cheese wedges, yogurt, and cereal - a diet you wouldn't think could make you gain a lot of weight, but I must be a statistical anomaly.
And it's making me more miserable. I don't have the psychic energy to go work out; it's just so much, and the fatter I get, the more I don't want to be seen on the treadmill. But I've got to do something. I can't gain back all that weight I lost. I can't afford the wardrobe change, anyway.
I signed up for Weight Watchers again a few weeks ago, but haven't been using it. So that's step #1: Use the damn WW tools. Document just how much I've been eating. Eat less. It's a matter of volume, I'm sure.
Step #2: get to the gym. I want to run, but I'm not going to force myself to start off running. I'm going to make it a plan to just go to the gym and get on the treadmill. It doesn't matter how long, just do it.
A combined effort, and I should be able to lose a little weight, even with the Zyprexa weighing me down more. I really want to give myself a break and not do any of this until I'm used to the medication, but waiting only gives me an excuse to not do anything about it.
So tomorrow, we're going to the gym. It has to happen.
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