Some days I’m super motivated. I get out of bed early and drag my lumpy ass down to the gym and force myself to workout. I’ve started to eat my meals without the extra salt I used to put on without even tasting the food first. Blah. I’ve reduced my sugar. BLAH! I went from having a Pepsi at lunch and dinner to only dinner. Then further…tonight was my first dinner without my beloved Pepsi. I am not looking forward to the caffeine withdrawals.

After all this reduction and moderation over the last two weeks, I haven’t lost anything! This is some bullshit!

I rationalize. I looked up the ideal weight for a 5’4″ woman with a thin frame. The ideal weight is between 108 and 132 pounds. Okay, I’m in that range. I justify. I don’t mind being 127 pounds, I just need to tone it up.

My husband reminds me that muscle weighs more than fat. I remind him to shut the hell up.

Then, there are the other days when I think I should just accept myself and learn to rock a pot belly like the biggest sex symbol of all time:

I know I’m no Marilyn Monroe so I will continue to torture myself until I see and feel the change I crave.