So the hill didn’t work out so great. I made it about 100 yards before my knee protested quite loudly, and I haven’t had the guts to try again since.
Eating healthy on my own hasn’t been working either, though, so last week I rejoined Lindora, the SoCal weight-loss program that has worked for me quite well in the past. It was $600 I wasn’t planning on spending at the time, but I’d reached maximum disgust with myself and didn’t stop to think about the consequences–I just drove myself to the clinic and walked in the door.
The consequences came later, of course. For one, I’d signed up right before a conference in Chicago. The Lindora rep and I decided the best time to officially start the program would be the Monday after I get back, since starting while in a hotel would just be setting me up for failure. (Whew!) That $600 price tag was another yikes, so I sold some Apple stock to help pay for it.
And then the scariest part was stepping on the scale. Holy bejeezus, that was horrible. I’m up to a horrifying, revolting, what-the-fuck L.A. high of 242 pounds, a mere FIFTEEN POUNDS LESS THAN MY LIFE-TIME HIGHEST OF 257!
So. That happened. And now I almost can’t wait for next Monday to come so I can get started on resetting my brain, because even that horrible, terrible number hasn’t been enough to stop me from eating the ice cream and donuts, and even sitting in the most uncomfortable chair ever last week at a restaurant that obviously doesn’t cater to large-assed customers, wasn’t enough to stop me from ordering dessert. I need the full-stop, no-compromises regimen that Lindora provides, and I really can’t wait.
I don’t want to be this uncomfortable in my own skin anymore.