Results: Week Five

Drumroll please... I stayed exactly the same.

As an English Lit major, there's a big part of me that wants to up the plot on this whole thing for you people.  Maybe secretly start working out four hours a day and appear amazed when the pounds drop off.  I can recognize a good story and nothing drags down a plot like slow, lingering build-up with no pay-off.  If you've ever sat in a class for weeks discussing "Clarissa, or the History of a Young Lady," you know exactly what I mean.

Unfortunately, I'm pretty committed to being honest, so this whole thing might take a while.  Insert forty billion "Rome wasn't built in a day" type metaphors.

• The elliptical machine is still broken.  Costco mailed out replacement parts and I finally got them on Thursday.  I have to call and schedule a day for the repair guy to come out.  Admittedly, I've been using this as an excuse not to work out.
• I still feel great about this non-diet thing.  My anxiety level about food is way down and I haven't had urges to binge and go crazy because nothing is off limits.  Not counting calories after mentally doing it for, oh, two decades or so is a relief in itself.
• I'm starting to FEEL like I'm losing weight.  My pants are getting loose and my winter coat seems huge on me all of a sudden.  Maybe the scale is just lagging behind.  Who knows?  None of this ever seems like a science to me.

This week, I'm committed to getting back into the working out groove, even if it kills me.  And speaking of that, driving to work this morning, I imagined the entire plot of the True Crime book that Ann Rule would write about my life if I turned up murdered.  I think it would end up being pretty good!  I'm thinking of starting on an outline for her, just in case.

EDITED TO ADD:  I owe you guys progress pictures (although none of you knew that, but I'm anal retentive to the extreme today) so I snapped these beauties in the bathroom at work.  At some point, I'll post pictures on here where I have showered, brushed my hair and perhaps applied make-up.

Don't even get me started on the mess, but know it had nothing to do with me.  Again, the English major in me wants to tell you about the homeless man that I unselfishly allow to live in my office, but reality is a lot less interesting.  Heavy sigh.