Layla's Dark and Foreboding Weblog

I'm going to try to make sure this blog doesn't become my wedding or weight loss outlet, but I make no promises.

Let's start off with this little tidbit: Since beginning boot camp, I've lost five pounds. That means I only have 45 more to go before I reach my ideal weight, and only 15 more to go until I win the "Who can lose 20 lbs. faster" bet that my brother J and I made in July. I know I'm going to win for a variety of reasons. The main reason is that my brother has little to no comprehension of numbers. Speed, weight, and money are all completely intertwined in his life, yet he can't understand them.

Example:

5:15pm on the corner of Market & Kearny. He's got to be at his wife’s work by 5:30. It's a Friday. It's the last Friday of the month (to you non-SFers, this means critical mass, a phenomenon of bicycles that take over Market Street to protest the evil of automobiles on Market Street- don't ask). J will then say to me "I'll bet you $20 we'll be at S's work in 15 minutes." I'll say "No fucking way. Fell is closed, Gough has construction, and you just ate a spicy burrito. You'll never do it. 25 minutes at LEAST!"

"You're on."

We pull up to S's work at 5:46 to him cursing the world, and inevitably welching on the bet. At one point in the late 90's, he owed me $80 in outstanding bet money, all purely "we'll get there in 7 minute" ones, too. He never paid, and I swore to never bet him again. That and P and S both forbade us.

Anyway, 5 lbs. lighter, I'm feeling rather good about this hell I go through 3 times a week. I have an annoying amount of energy, I'm sleeping better, and the most important thing, I'm excited about getting healthy, thanks to purging the White Devil out of my life, namely anything with bleached flour or refined sugars. Or hydrogenated anything. Or high fructose corn syrup. Or booze. And don't eat after 8pm EVER.

It's tough, let me tell you. The booze is the hardest by far. M and I have cut our alcohol consumption to 2 nights a week, down from 6 or 7. And when I say we've cut, I mean we've promised to cut. We're at a healthy 3 nights right now. But, 2 of those nights we'll only have 1 glass. And when I say glass, I mean bottle. Let's just say we're trying.

But the thing is, I eat 5 or 6 meals a day now. I thought it would be hard to eat that many times a day, but then I remembered that I love food, and didn't get fat by not eating a lot. Now I can still eat the same amount, just split it up to a bunch of times. Lots of proteins, tons of veggies, carbs, oils, I can have it all. Just cut back on the white devils, and we're good. Once my knee heals up, things will be peachy!

I have been fantasizing about looking all buff at the wedding. Wearing a dress that needed no alterations. People saying "Holy shit. Did you have surgery?" Me say, "Oh no. It’s au natural, baby." We'll see. I did house a small gelato last night after dinner. My trainer says we're allowed 3 cheat meals a week (kinda like Body for Life, I guess) and I have been good for a week and a half dammit!

Other than that, the plans are coming along nicely. We're ordering our "save the date" cards to remind our guests that paradise awaits this fall. Our wedding parties are all set. The only thing left is securing the rooms and hoping that the planner doesn't fuck anything up. And now we wait. And watch that fat mellllllllllt off.