The Progeny
Happy New Yare!
No, that is not a typo.
Yare: quick; agile; lively.
That shall be my motto for the year as I press toward the goal of losing a gazillion pounds.
Oh of COURSE that is an exaggeration...I'm aiming for the more reasonable, gazillion-minus-2, but it's all part of the EMM...Extreme Ma Makeover.
In preparation, I did something I haven't done since before Ardith got married: I stepped on the scale.
Contrary to my fears, no springs came popping out of the device, aided by the fact that they don't makes scales with springs, any more.
But seriously, I wouldn't have heard spring-poppage anyway, since my ears were pierced by the high-pitched sound of two concurrent screams...one from the scale, shrieking in agony, and the other from my own mouth, shrieking in agony.
Ok...ANOTHER exaggeration. Here is the real deal--
I knew I'd gained weight, and I thought of a reasonable number that might appear on the scale...something not too wishfully low, and something not exceeding 300 pounds, and guess what?
I weighed the exact amount I'd thought!
And people say I'm not good in math.
Then I hopped onto ye olde treadmille and did just over a mile. And I'll be back down to the basement-of-horrors, one or two more times today. Going for the shorter-distance--more-often, approach.
As previously mentioned, the supreme food reduction will commence on Tuesday, after the doctor appointments, but I'm already cutting back.
My goal is to be within a certain weight range by the end of May. And even before then, I fully expect my feet to stop hurting whenever I stand up, my left hand to stop falling asleep at night and maybe, just MAYBE, I'll stop snoring, too.
It's not a New Year's resolution so much as a stratagy to prevent Type II Diabetes.
And get back into my favorite pants.
As for today, no big plans other than the possibility of watching the Capital One Bowl for the commercials, or seeing the Rose Bowl later this evening...though that would entail moving the antenna, an exhausting activity in itself.
Speaking of fatigue, the treadmill tired me out, so Big Fat Ma is off to nap-land.
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Yare: quick; agile; lively.
That shall be my motto for the year as I press toward the goal of losing a gazillion pounds.
Oh of COURSE that is an exaggeration...I'm aiming for the more reasonable, gazillion-minus-2, but it's all part of the EMM...Extreme Ma Makeover.
In preparation, I did something I haven't done since before Ardith got married: I stepped on the scale.
Contrary to my fears, no springs came popping out of the device, aided by the fact that they don't makes scales with springs, any more.
But seriously, I wouldn't have heard spring-poppage anyway, since my ears were pierced by the high-pitched sound of two concurrent screams...one from the scale, shrieking in agony, and the other from my own mouth, shrieking in agony.
Ok...ANOTHER exaggeration. Here is the real deal--
I knew I'd gained weight, and I thought of a reasonable number that might appear on the scale...something not too wishfully low, and something not exceeding 300 pounds, and guess what?
I weighed the exact amount I'd thought!
And people say I'm not good in math.
Then I hopped onto ye olde treadmille and did just over a mile. And I'll be back down to the basement-of-horrors, one or two more times today. Going for the shorter-distance--more-often, approach.
As previously mentioned, the supreme food reduction will commence on Tuesday, after the doctor appointments, but I'm already cutting back.
My goal is to be within a certain weight range by the end of May. And even before then, I fully expect my feet to stop hurting whenever I stand up, my left hand to stop falling asleep at night and maybe, just MAYBE, I'll stop snoring, too.
It's not a New Year's resolution so much as a stratagy to prevent Type II Diabetes.
And get back into my favorite pants.
As for today, no big plans other than the possibility of watching the Capital One Bowl for the commercials, or seeing the Rose Bowl later this evening...though that would entail moving the antenna, an exhausting activity in itself.
Speaking of fatigue, the treadmill tired me out, so Big Fat Ma is off to nap-land.
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posted by Ma Hoyt | 9:52 AM
1 Comments:
Go Mommy! You're gonna make it to the goal!
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