T minus six months

In sixth months, minus a day, I will be 35. If I’m not pregnant by then, my fertility, or lack thereof, will turn into a barrel going over Niagara Falls.
There is very little chance of survival.
Add to that the fact that I need to lose 20 pounds or more to get back to where I was two years ago, just for vanity’s sake mind you, and It’s shaping up to be a very important six months.

“Can she lose the weight?” you ask, “Is she really that vain?” you demand.

Yes and no, no and yes. There is no definitive answer. I used to be vain, now my clothes just don’t fit and it seems more practical to lose weight than to buy lots of new ones. I’ve lost the weight before but I’m a sucker for a can of Dr. Pepper and the environment I work in right now is not helping me with my unquenchable thirst for the maroon can. How was that for a run on sentence? They’re a passion of mine.

Sooooo anyway……..If I could exercise and cut out the pop I could lose it. I could maybe do it in time for the big day but I’ve already let two days go by without getting a start on it. Slap me.

Am I vain? Kinda. I always want to present my best, most confident self and that involves looking better in my clothes than I do now. I hate the pouch of fat that slides around on my belly and looks really bad when I’m lying on my side and it falls down to the bed. I want to be fitter and look better naked too.

Stay tuned: the soap opera that is my life will continue after this short break.