One Year Under the Belt

I am a mom. I am single. I am divorced. I am...well...not thin. I know...can't you just feel the self love? Recently, I passed the one year mark of what had to have been my lowest of low points in life. My separation, divorce, the fall of my family, and the plumping of my butt. But over this past year, I've started to dig myself out of the worst funk you could ever imagine. And, as a writer, I somehow thought others would want to come along for the journey. Don't worry, my posts won't be all downers. But they will be real.

Last Monday, I emailed some random personal trainer online and said I wanted to get some one-on-one training. I had no idea if this guy was a serial killer or even a trainer for that matter. I go to his house (in hindsight this seems incredibly stupid) for a consult and I have my first session Wednesday. I'm pretty sure he's the real deal because my body was on fire after I left the session. Sunday is my next session; still hoping he's not psycho. Along with strength training, I'm tracking my calorie count on this lovely little app call MyFitnessPal. Umm...I don't think I'm going to be close friends with this app. It makes you be a-c-c-o-u-n-t-a-b-l-e. PLUS, my trainer can look at my log...anytime. I guess I could lie and just say I eat lettuce all the time. But, I'm paying money (I don't have) for his advice, so I'm thinking honesty is better for the bottom line (budget and butt).

It's Friday night and I could go for peanut buster parfait. I'm thinking they're not 172 calories (which my app says I have left). Lovely.