Sweat The Small Stuff

I am drinking skim milk in my coffeehouse-deliciously-flavored-coffee.

Note I said coffee - not latte or cappuccino or mocha or chai. Coffee. Vanilla flavored coffee with two packets of Splenda and a healthy splash of skim milk.

Sans half and half.

This is a significant sacrifice for me.

I like frothy. I like over-the-top. Whether we are talking cocktails or coffee or sandwiches or dessert. You name it - I like my insert consumable item here elaborate. And flavorful. And extreme.

And the wheels come to a screeching halt when one signs up (Renews? Re-ups?) to roll with the Losers.

My life on the lam has lasted more than I care to admit. I've run wild with abandon, gorging on decadent cheeses, drinks and drinks and drinks a plenty. The recent holiday season was the Super Bowl of my decadence, dishing up almost a party (or two or three) for each night of December.

I can just imagine the apron of fat draping over my abdomen growing and multiplying with every bite and sip.

So, despite my affinity for all that tastes good on the tastebuds, it is time for me to regain self control.

My goal? Not a number or dress size. I just want to look good naked.

I want to look good enough to wear a swimsuit at a hot travel destination with zero shame. I want to be confident about my body when I strip down to my skivvies with a man I care about.

I want to be able to admire the body I see when I step out of the shower. Right now, I sigh and throw the towel around my body, trying to cover up what everyone can see.

The plan is not overly ambitious - in the beginning.

Calories in versus calories out. That's the way this game is played, right? I am going to rely on shortcuts that help me indulge in the things I love while making wise choices for my diet.

I am going to drink my water if it kills me - and I'll tote it around in a bottle in my purse if I have to.

I'm going to score some new tennis shoes - kicks that will let me walk and run and jump and otherwise exert some energy, which is definitely in order after a late night New Year's Eve celebration that involved everyone at the party committing to do the. Flying. Pig. Half. Marathon.

What the hell did I just get myself into?

Thankfully I have you all. I have my lovely Losers. I have my wonderful friends.

And I have a vision of how great my naked body used to look oh so many moons ago.

Right now is about sweating the small stuff. Skim milk instead of half-and-half. Five minutes of moving versus five minutes of lummoxing.

I can do this.