So, I lost seven pounds at Disney World.
SEVEN FUCKING POUNDS.
At first I thought it was water weight because I basically sweat until my clothing was dripping each time I ventured out of the hotel, but it hasn’t come back since I’m home, so YEE HA!
This brings me to a total loss of twenty pounds since mid-March, with another twenty lost back in October/November. So around forty total. Which is awesome. Clothes in the back of the closet are now wearable (no, not THOSE clothes, not yet), everything fits better.
I did have to go and get new bras because my last “good” bra broke while at Disney (by doing that thing where you’re walking and all of a sudden you’re like “what’s poking my chin?” and it’s your fucking underwire so then you have to pull it out, because try as you might, it will NOT go back in and then you walk around Disney World with one boob a bit more saggy than the other). I was shocked to find that not only had I lost four inches around my chest, but my cup size (sob!) dropped from a DD to a motherfucking C. Which sucks, because, well, BOOBS ARE AWESOME.
Here’s my progress so far. Below is a picture from last May on the left, from December in the middle, and from today.
I’m particularly fond of how the exercise has actually made my butt HIGHER. As Dresden said to me today, BODANKADONK.
I’m pretty happy with my progress so far, but there’s a long way to go. I have kept on tracking my food although I took a breather while on vacation. When I got home I didn’t give myself time to pause; just went right back to the gym and started tracking again while stocking the fridge with fruit and veggies.
But again, what’s most noticeable to me is the fact that I feel a million times better. I cannot imagine how much Disney would have sucked if I hadn’t spent some time working on getting in better physical shape before I went; there is SO MUCH walking there. As it was I struggled with an awkward problem (TMI alert, although do I really need to say that? My whole blog is TMI): inner thigh fucking chafing, or chub rub. I didn’t realize that my shorts and skorts had gotten bigger enough that they fit in such a way that my inner thighs touch. After the first day, I could have started a fucking fire down there. Sheesh. All the usual tricks (deodorant, powder, etc) didn’t keep it from continuing to happen, alas. But in the good news column, I now have a nice callus and probably won’t have to worry about it for the summer! So, yeah?
Anyways. Onward!
If you are looking for more Cecily, I wrote about the unexpected ways the Cinderella story has effected me over at The Uppercase Lowdown, and I also tackled the “new” Merida makeover controversy.
Part 1 of in search of smaller is here. Part 2 is here.
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