So I’ve Gotten Back on the Treadmill
If you’re fat you’ve got nobody to blame but yourself. This logic also includes me.
I’d look like Jillian Michaels if I had but one thing.
Consistency.
I let myself go again. My weight tends to go all over the place when I don’t proactively try to maintain it. My weight is nowhere near the level it was two years ago (I pushed 160 pounds back then, right now I’m at around 142). I’m ten to fifteen pounds over my target weight and while I try to not beat myself up too badly over it, clearly better habits will enable me to reach my goal.
The annoying thing is I really don’t eat crazy portions. Nor am I a big fan of junk food.
But I think it’s because of the fact I like salad without dressing so much that I tend to let loose when it comes to the chocolates.
I’m afflicted with lactose intolerance, but the excruciating pain of dairy seems to only kick in if I eat cheese, yogurt, or ice cream. Two chocolate bars will do it, but one I can keep down without screaming in agony.
Fun fact: There’s a dessert here in Jordan that’s unbelievably decadent. It’s called knafeh. Shit’s amazing and probably contributed to the massive kirsh I had four years ago (kirsh is Arabic for pot belly).
