Everytime I decide to diet and exercise, I've always gained in either the 3rd or 4th week. It's like my body freaks out and goes, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING? ARE WE DIEING? CONSERVE! CONSERVE!" and decides to hold onto everything. Then the next week it goes, "Oh, we're just gonna be healthy now. Oh, ok. As you were." I even mentioned this to a couple people last week. And this week it happened.
Yeah, I'm still a little pissed.
Tomorrow was to be my morning off from the treadmill, but I think I'll get up and get on it again. I'm gonna add a little jog to it. And by little, I mean about a tenth of a mile. And each week I'll increase it until I'm in L.A.
I had been increasing the speed on it weekly. I've about topped out at the fastest I can walk now. If I try to walk any faster I'm gonna end up face-planting on the belt, then being vaulted into the wall behind it. I'm sure the cats would enjoy watching that. They're sadistic little critters. Time to do a little jogging!
The first thing I did when I got home after finding out I'm still fat is get on the interwebs and see what everyone else is doing. I find encouragement in my friends' success. The Grand Poobah is still working at it and improving. Totally awesome. Another great recipe I can make healthier at Plain Chicken. Looks super yummy. And at the Cheese Palace...oh no...oh no she didn't. Well, I have only one thing to say about that...
Obviously the problem is she's no longer caucasian.
Now I'm DEFINITELY getting up on that treadmill tomorrow.
P.S. Archer. Tonight. 10 pm. FX. Squee.