I want to be a Big Loser

I've been watching "The Biggest Loser" this season. It's a show about obese people who compete with each other to lose the most weight and win the title of "The Biggest Loser" and $250,000. The producers pad each episode out way too much (each one is two hours!), but given the writers strike, I suppose the network was happy to have new programming to fill those two hours for 16 weeks. I find the contestants and their journeys inspiring.

Anyway, I went to the gym, myself, today. On top of a LOT of walking and pushing the stroller all over the neighborhood this week -- like, three miles a jaunt. My hips and thighs actually ACHE.

Anyway, I want a personal trainer. I want to go to a "ranch" where a personal trainer spends every day with me showing me new exercises and busting my ass to work out and work hard. I want to stand on an industrial scale and see that I've lost ten pounds. That's pretty much all I want - ten pounds. In fact, right now, when I lose six more, I'll hit my initial goal weight.

Although, if I got money for losing weight, to boot, that'd be cool. :)

I catch glimpses of myself in the mirror in the bathroom, my stomach, especially. And, I've decided my new mantra is, "I love my tummy. I love my tummy." When I was working out today, though, I wanted somebody to tell me what I was doing was working. My form was good; my effort is paying off. Or, somebody to tell me, 'pick up the pace! Squeeeeze! Five MORE!'

I love my tummy, however squishy and stretch-marky it is.