I had a moment of panic today when I realized my size-9 shorts fit me ah-lawt better than they used to, about ten pounds ago. Argh. Sadness. After-school snacking and a lack of good exercise weather has really taken its toll on me.
So I'm set on shedding my sophomore ten (if that's even a real thing), and I'm not exactly sure how but THE FLAB MUST COME OFF! PRONTO!
After last summer- no, wait, make that two summers ago- after a successful two-month period where I actually got rid of twenty-or-so pounds, I'm thinking recovery is still possible. I just have to sacrifice my after-school casadilla. And probably my beloved Chai Lattes for a while.
As for exercise, we have a rowing machine with a thin layer of dust forming on it, and I think I shall put my viking skills to the test on that one.
It's funny how I've accepted the grown-up truth that I can't lose ten pounds in a week like I really, really want to. But now I've set a reasonable goal, I think, and it involves honoring my once-owned Coon Hound, Penny (who is now the property of some happy farm family off in Wonderland)
If by summer, I can achieve the taut belly that my old hound dog used to have, I will award myself with a Victorias Secret shopping spree. Along with the flat stomach I'm hoping to attain envy-worthy legs as well. Legs that actually look good in cutoff daisy-dukes.
Heh heh. I'm not so sure the daisy dukes will fly with mi padre, but a girl can dream, right?!
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