The Countdown Begins

In the interest of helping myself reach the goal I set two months ago (and came nowhere near achieving), I am about to do something I've never done. I'm slightly frightened, embarrassed, and hungry, but I'm forcing myself. I'm beginning to think that the part of my brain that controls will power has short circuited, and the part that enjoys pasta has grown three sizes too big. Sort of like the Grinch's heart when he decides to embrace friendship and Christmas, only this part of my brain has chosen to embrace starches and carbohydrates.

I am going to reveal my weight on a public blog. I just weighed myself, and my scale says that I weigh less than I actually do, as it has been broken for months. I just wanted to make myself feel better by seeing a lower number. The scale says 127.5. My actual weight is somewhere closer to 140. How do I know this? Because I can't fit into my clothes anymore, and I once weighed 140, so I know what 140 looks like on my body.

Before people say "140?? I'd kill to weigh 140!! But you're so tiny!" let's get some things straight here. Am I fat? No. I do not think I am obese or "fat." I am extremely out of shape, and as I get older, it's only going to become more difficult for me to lose weight and keep it off. It's better to start now. Also, let's bring in the height versus weight factor. I am 5 feet tall, though sometimes I appear to be 5'1". For someone who is 5'1", I should weigh between 105 and 120 pounds. 132 is considered overweight for someone my height. That's just science, people. Not me looking for compliments and reassurance.

There is no reason for me to be eating whatever I want. It's not good for me, and it's gross. Does anyone else out there eat two double servings of pasta per day? Do you visit McDonald's 4 times a week? Do you down 3-4 Pepsi's per day? Doubtful. I've let myself get completely out of control and I don't know why.

Two years ago, I managed to lose 20 pounds. I worked out diligently and watched what I ate. I didn't do anything extreme. I didn't even join a gym. I just used a video at my apartment 4-5 times a week, and stopped eating fast food and mac and cheese. I felt great. And somehow I fell off the wagon. Maybe it started with a cheat day, or a lazy day, or a hangover. However it started, it never stopped. And when I stopped waiting tables it got really out of control, because running around a restaurant was the only type of physical activity I did. Now I sit at a desk all day, munching on cheez-its and going to McDonald's for lunch. It's awful.

So, my dear friends, I have 5 weeks to lose 15 pounds, and 6 to lose 20. I want to be down to at least 125 by BRO's wedding, and 120 by the time I move to Bikini-Fake-Boobs-Personal-Trainer-Zone-Diet-Land. (I'd prefer to be down to 115, but let's not go nuts here.) I'll need everyone's help on this. Don't let me get that slice of pizza after a bar. Don't let me try that heavy wheat beer. Don't let me "cheat just for today" and eat at Arby's. Let's all help eachother be a little healthier. Or at least just me.

As I mentioned, I'm leaving Buffalo in 6 weeks. Every time I think about it, my stomach instantly rumbles with nerves. I'm nauseous as I'm typing this. It all seemed great when I went to visit back in April. I loved it so much when I was there, I didn't want to come home. But now that it's so close, my head is spinning. Can I really do this? Leave my friends and family and move across the country? I mean, I'm doing it. Don't take my rambling as me having second thoughts. I'm going. But its going to be harder than I thought. Not being able to call up a friend and meet for a drink or a movie is going to be the hardest part. Even leaving my job will be difficult. I've never felt so welcome or appreciated before. It's going to be extremely hard to leave a place that I could quite comfortably stay at until I eventually begin my actual career. Again, why couldn't this job have come along years ago??

BIL has secured an apartment for us. He sent in a deposit last week for the 2nd layout at the 1st apartment - the one I really wanted. So I'm really excited to have a gorgeous new apartment in a really funky building. And I think I've successfully talked the FAM into driving across the country to get there, so that will be fun.

Biggest fears? That I'll go out there and be no better off than I was here. That I'll be so homesick that I won't let myself fully enjoy LA and give up before I've really tried. That my friends won't care that I'm gone. That no one will come to visit and my friendships will fade away into nothing. That I'll miss big events, like 30th birthdays, weddings, and my friend's children growing up because flights are too expensive to come home. That I won't find a job. That I will find a job, but won't make any money.

But what if...? What if things are great? What if I find a really fun job in the first week that I also make great money at? What if I make great friends that don't take my other friends' places, but make me miss them just a little less? What if my Buffalo friends actually keep in touch with me and love hearing about my West Coast shenanigans? What if people actually come visit for long weekends? What if I meet the man of my dreams? What if I meet the right person and get a job writing?

Either one of these scenarios could happen. But from now until July 29th, I'm going to focus on the latter. I'm going to exercise. I'm going to daydream about how to decorate my new bedroom. I'm going to check Craigslist for cool jobs. I'm going to remember how much I absolutely loved LA and all the people we met when we visited. I'm going to think and act positively, so that maybe I'll go out there with not only a healthier body, but a healthier mind, too.

After all, I AM moving to a place that serves wheatgrass shots in bars and has yoga classes for dogs. If I'm going to fit in, I'd better start acting a little less neurotic and a lot more Zen.