Sweetney.com Flab-Be-Gone 2006 Challenge.*

I may have mentioned in the past -- likely in passing and with little emphasis -- that I gained something around 65 pounds back when I was pregnant with M_. Which was, umm, MORE THAN THREE YEARS AGO, duh. And though since squeezing her out (heh) I've dropped the lion's share of that extra girth, I have been unable to shed those pesky last 15-ish pounds, much to my constant irritation. And while I've tried various methods to lose it, mostly involving bizarre eating habits and questionable supplements, I've recently come to realize that while *I* may be unhappy with my body's present state, my body itself is quite happy to hold onto those 15 pounds, perhaps in anticipation of some coming famine I'm not yet consciously aware of. Thus I've concluded that the time has come to stop dicking around and go all hardcore and shit, my friends.

Simply put, its time to pull out the whoop-ass on my ass.

What this boils down to, really, is exercise. Which incidentally I LOATHE, and always have. But its pretty clear that unless I'm okay with resigning myself to an exclusively lettuce and rice cakes diet (I'm not), this is what needs to be done, with some regularity and intensity. So today begins the challenge, as I'm planning an afternoon trip to the local Y to obtain a membership and commence with the, uhh, sweating and panting. And I'm looking forward to this about as much as one might look forward to a scheduled root canal, but IT MUST BE DONE. I can deny my need for this no longer.

My plan is as follows:
1. Go to the Y for sweating/panting 3x a week for 1 full hour.
2. Eat healthily, moderately, but not weirdly.
3. Report progress or lack thereof here on sweetney weekly.
4. Lose 15 pounds (or whatever it takes to get me comfortably back into ALL of my pre-pregnancy clothes) by July 1.

Regarding #3: my intention here is not to bore ya'll with diet-blather. I fully realize that this is not the most engaging or titillating subject, but as part of My Plan, the threat of public humiliation and shaming is a powerful force (not that I would expect to be stoned by ya'll were I to fall off the weight loss wagon; rather, making all of this public will, I think, just help keep me honest since, like most humans, I'm not real keen on the idea of having to report on my own flaming failure). So please bear with me, mkay?

And since I'm fully aware of the controversial nature of the issue of weight and weight loss, particularly for women, let me state right now, for the record, that what I'm attempting to achieve here isn't about conforming to some externally-imposed ideal of womanly daintiness. I have no desire to be Mary-Kate rail-thin or something; I do, however, feel an intense desire to again feel comfortable in my body, and to be able to wear the hundreds of items of clothing in my closet that no longer fit me. I have some really cute shit in that closet, man, and every morning I hear the siren's song of those sweet little tops and skirts.... and then I go throw on some jeans and a huge, dumpy t-shirt. Its just kind of bumming me out, you know?

So that's it. I'd like to extend an invitation to anyone and everyone who reads this to JOIN ME. We could be, like, a cult, but without the tainted kool-aid and, umm, mass-suicide parts. I'd be more than happy to be in contact with others in similar straits to share support, commiserate with, exchange tips and ideas, etcetera. Its a hard road, man, power-walking that treadmill to nowhere alone.

Thus endeth my “getting all Oprah on your ass” moment. As you were.