justatypicaltwentysomething-blog

[justatypicaltwentysomething-blog]

This is the beginning (again).

This is my first attempt at a lifestyle change and weightloss blog, but I couldn’t tell you what number attempt this is at a lifestyle change and weightloss endeavor. 

I sort of feel hopeless about the entire situation, but being that writing has always flowed through my veins with a passion, I thought I'd try a new approach.

Writing is therapy for me, and I think therapy is probably the single-most important component I need now. 

I'm going to be very candid in this blog. 

I'm not sure whether or not anyone else will ever actually read this. It's okay if no one does. It's for me, anyway. But if there's anyone else out there that finds themselves in my words, I hope I can be therapeutic for you, too. This is my journey, but this can be our journey. I'd love to share. 

That being said, let's dive in. 

It's currently nearing four o'clock in the morning. I'm nestled in bed at my Mema's house, tucked away in a cozy cul-de-sac, damn near forgotten about in a small town in West Virginia. I've recently made the decision to move back home here after living in a suburb of Seattle for the past seven months. I feel about as crazy as it sounds, but ultimately I realized that being near my family and friends is top priority for me, and I can be just as happy in a location closer to home. 

My (next) journey starts here, and it's a journey that expands far past losing weight. Tomorrow, I start graduate school, so that I can make the career change from journalism to therapy. Soon enough, I'll no longer be an unemployed bum, as my job hunt officially began today. I have debt and a sorry excuse for a savings account, but two-and-a-half years from now I intend to be looking back fondly on all of this. Maybe I'll still be blogging then, if I end up liking this whole thing at all, but I hope to be writing from my own cozy apartment in a new location, somewhere east coast, with a job as a therapist and a credit score I can brag about. 

We'll call this a time capsule. I'll be back in 2020, first blog entry. Here's to hoping. 

But nevermind all of that. The main reason we're here is weight, so let me rein this back in. 

Yesterday, I ate like shit. And I'm going to admit what yesterday's shit consisted of. It started with lunch with my friend Alexis at a chinese buffet: two helpings of white rice, two helpings of coconut chicken, fried corn balls, nearly twelve pieces of sushi, a slice of pizza, and two crab rangoon. Then, later that night, after everyone that could catch me in the act had fallen asleep, I went to Taco Bell and got a Beefy Fritos Burrito and three Cheesy Gordita Crunches. Next, I went to Kroger and got two slices of cheesecake, two slices of an Italian cream cake, and a single serving of a peanut butter mousse cake. 

I gathered these things to accompany me while I partake in my favorite activity: watching television and eating shitty food late at night. 

Even as I write this, I'm depressed knowing that tonight I don't have any junk to shove in my face once I turn off my computer and turn on my television. I'm so sad that the thought of watching t.v. late into the night doesn't even appeal to me right now like it normally does. What's the point without the food? I've lost my favorite thing in the world to do. 

Last night, I ate every single thing except for I didn't finish the second slice of the Italian cream cake. I was so stuffed and sick I thought I might explode. I like that feeling. 

If it weren't so late, and thus impossible for me to sneak out of the apartment without waking my Mema up in the process, I'd probably do what I do every night: go get bad food and tell myself that tomorrow is another day and I'll start being healthy tomorrow. Luckily, I'm too tired and it's too risky to do that this time. I waited too long. I'm both happy and sad about that. 

Tomorrow scares me. I don't know if tomorrow I'll be strong enough to stop myself from deciding that the next day is another day, too. My dad, stepmom, and two of my sisters are coming over and they want to order pizza. I'm trying to make the decision not to eat any pizza and eat the special food I make myself instead. But I hate it already. Because no one will let me eat my special food quietly. I'll have to hear the borderline disappointment everyone will feel when I decide to be the odd one out, and the guilt they'll feel about eating pizza in front of me. Out of this guilt, they'll probably ask more than once if I'm sure I don't want any pizza. If they ask enough, I might not be so sure anymore. 

I don't feel ready to do this anymore. This is such a major thing, and I think I need just one more day. 

The problem is that I've needed just one more day for about sixteen years now. 

No more days. Today is the day. 

To aid in my weightloss, I'll be using MyFitnessPal. I was doing Weight Watchers, but I decided I don't want to have to pay, and Weight Watchers' points system isn't very friendly toward dieters that choose to get their protein from non-meat sources (could it have something to do with their sponsorship by Chobani and Perdue, mayhaps? I digress.) Since I plan to become vegan, calorie counting fits me better, and it's the method I used and succeeded at in 2012 when I lost 32 pounds in a little over three months. 

Anyway, now that I've unnecessarily justified myself there.

I just finished tracking my calories for the day on MyFitnessPal. I went over by 240 calories. That's what I get for eating first and tracking later. I'm not super happy about it, and on top of that I’m hungry again, and it definitely makes me that much more susceptible to giving up for the day and starting over tomorrow in true 'all or nothing' fashion. But, too sleepy, too risky, too lazy.

I have so much more I want to say, but I guess I've got a long time to say it too. 

I'll end this here for tonight on the positive note that I didn't do my best today, but I did way better than I did yesterday.

I'll take it. 

Goodnight, day one.