i'm not a girl named boney maroney

Let me explain, because unless you’ve known me since grade five, you have no idea what the heading of this blog refers to.

When I was in lower grade school, I was one of the skinniest kids in my class. My last name being Moore, Boney Maroney was as good a nickname as one could earn. Because at the time, I really was about as skinny as a stick of macaroni.  As I grew into adulthood, I became quite a hot little ticket - slim legs, tiny waist, great rack...

...flash forward 30 years to the present day, specifically this morning when I tipped the scales at 165lbs – my highest weight to date.

Now, I’m a tall-ish girl, so the extra pounds crept up without any real notice except for maybe some tighter waistbands and a second chin. And before some of you out there in Bloggerland say "165lbs? I’d be happy to weigh that!" please bear in mind, I was always between 127-137 for the better part of my life to date. So, as I am currently rounding out my fourth decade, I’ve decided I’ll be damned if this is the body in which I turn 40.

Before I get into the planning stages of said weight loss, let’s review two major obstacles:

     1. I love food
     2. I hate exercise

It would seem I am doomed to fail before I even get out of the gate because it’s true, I’d rather suffer a hangover than a workout but I am determined. Too add to my motivation, friends of my parents with hotsy single sons have bought a cottage on our lake and no way are they going to see this current bod in a bikini. No. Effin’. Way!

The point of this post is for me to take ownership of my weight. I got lazy, I stopped caring, and as a result, I became unhappy. Not with the fat, but because I let it get to this point. I know how to eat right. I know about portion control. I know sitting on my ass and watching movies for hours is not a great way to burn calories. Going forward dear readers, to help hold me accountable to my goal I will be boring you with the details of how I am going to reach it. Which brings me to just that – my goal. I would really be quite satisfied with a 20lb loss, bringing me down to 145. I can do it. Right?

Ok great, we’ve owned it, identified roadblocks and set a target. Next steps? The how-to.

I guess finishing off the ice cream in the freezer doesn’t really count as pre-work. Or does it? Because once it’s gone, it’s no longer there to tempt me. Right? *sigh* I’m pretty sure it’s this same misguided mentality that got me here in the first place. So the ice cream stays until kids come for a visit. Or until I have a major bout of PMS mixed with full moon fever. You don't want to mess with me then. Trust.

I don't expect at the end of this journey for people to start calling me Boney Maroney again, but you can bet my fat ass, readers, I'm bringing sexy back!