The quest for happy imperfection…

So today was pretty good. I didn’t wake up early to get any sort of work out in.. which is fine because I’m pretty sure that God doesn’t really want me to be up at 5. I did however walk Lucy for twenty minutes at lunch. And, big step, I walked home from work (about a mile-ish) then got Lucy and walked back to work to pick up my car. So, overall, like an hour fifteen of walking at a pretty decent pace and close to 3.5 miles. So, not too bad for my first day back on the quasi-wagon.

Food was pretty good. Could have been better, could have been worse. I didn’t plan really well, and I was exceptionally hungry. However, I did manage to get in three pieces of fruit (all hail the ever present fruit bowl that has recently taken residence on my counter).  And, though I was over my daily calories, I was still almost 300 under my “net calories” when I facotr in my exercise. So, we’re moving in the right direction.

 In other news, I’ve finally accepted my setback and reset my ticker to reflect my current weight, and not that brief oasis-like glimpse of paradise I had before. So, we’re being a little more realistic these days. I also made a big move and set up my freestanding punching bag tonight. That was a workout in itself! Carrying water from the bathroom to fill the base felt like borderline slave labor, and that whole beating foam into the bag thing was a complete and total exercise in frustration). But, my hope (hahahaha oh that’s funny) is that I can drag my butt out of bed and wokr out with it for just 15 minutes each morning. Yeah, we’ll see about that. My evil plan is to slowly trick myself into working out just a little bit more and more each morning until I have a decent wake up routine with a little bit of cardio and a couple floor exercises. (I still plan on doing my main workouts at night, but if I can work in an easy half hour each morning to boost my energy and remind myself of my weightloss commitment, why not?)

 All is not well in the bra department. I finally buckled down and took measurements for bra fitting. Let me tell you, beating the girls into submission and strapping them down with a freezing cold plastic measuring tape was the true highlight of my morning. The official size? Drumroll please! 34G. One problem… they really don’t make those. They assume that if you have bigger boobs, you’re also bigger around as well. So it seems the only place I can find Gs that are smaller than a 38 are like Stripperama. Great. Yeah, that cherry print bra with the holes around the nipples really isn’t going to go under my favorite sweater the way I’d like. Luckily, I’m almost an F and I’ve decided I’m just going to wait until then to buy bras. Here’s hoping those girls shrink quick!!

 Until then, I’m off to do the tiny boob dance! (Followed by the tiny waist dance!)