The other day I actually thought to myself, "I need to get nicer sweatpants."
I didn't think, "I need to lose a little more weight to get into cuter shorts." Or, "I can't wait until fall to get into my skinny jeans."*
I just thought it would be great to have a more "chic" selection of leisure wear. An oxymoron if there ever was one.
...Houston, we have a problem.
And I blame it all, not on pregnancy weight, but on the straight up ass fat weight that I gained the last 10, extra days of being pregnant in which I basically went on an eating tour of New Hanover and Brusnwick County with my parents as they tried to keep me a) entertained and b) from getting bed sores from sitting on the couch all day.
What's a girl to do? I have no time or money to get a personal trainer. And even though I try to eat healthy I clearly am not doing it right.
The only thing I know is that buying more desirable sweat pants is not the answer. I am going to force my fat ass into my regular clothes until it gets so uncomfortable that I actually get motivated to make it fit for real.
Sadly, as my baby beings to roll over, laugh, and sit up, I think it's too late in the game to blame it on him. DAMNIT! I hate not having a scapegoat.
Project Ass Whittle is in full effect...if you can call something "in full effect" without having an real plan or prospects.
*I don't own skinny jeans. I'm not a masochist.
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