day 1: “ouch.”

What’s up with your stomach having to take like 20 minutes to tell your brain: “Yo! We’re full!”? (An obvious design flaw.) And who the shit decides to diet/change eating habits the week of her fucking period when, by all rights, she should be having rage-induced, cornicopic-in-magnitude feasts consisting of Big Macs, chocolate ice cream, straight up chocolate and Pringles for dinner??!

Hello. And welcome to my blog. Here I will transcribe my weight watching efforts as well as my musings about life and food.

This week I commit to:

• FLEX
• taking the stairs
• eating more vegetables

DAY 1

So I run to save this ball that is going way out-of-bounds. I stop, arch my back so my back-bump won’t hit the ceiling, make a glorious pass – and then fall hard onto my ass. This (of course) was followed by considerable difficulty getting back up, and complete disorientation and inability to be remotely useful when I made my way back to my position at the net.

You’d think day 1 would be glorious – feeding off that high of finally making and acting on the choice to eat better, and taking ownership of my weight. Instead, I totally under-ate, misjudging how to space out food throughout the day and ended up hungry and useless on the volleyball court.