For the times that you hurt

The year is 2016 and We the People have become so damn PC about everything and feeling that we need to share our feelings about everything which is fine, but I feel like we forget that we don’t have to tell everyone everything.

Not because you need to sit in your whatever it is that you are feeling(s) alone, but we tell people our problems in hopes that they can fix us. We want a quick fix for anything. Heck, in this day and age, near anything is fast. Food, shipping, gaining weight, hurting someone’s feelings, changing your hair color. It’s quick and easy. That’s what people want. But when we try to fix whatever it is that’s ailing us, whether it be a broken heart or a bruised ego, we try and jump back to happy and we don’t have a chance to reflect in our whatever it is.

Everything is based around happiness. There are millions of songs and self help books boosting about how easy it is to be happy. Eat better, walk a mile, stand in the sunshine. Like those are the 3 things to do and you will magically be a smiling fool.

Well I hate to break it to you, but that isn’t how it happens. Some people aren’t happy. Some people fluctuate between so many feelings out there, they don’t know exactly what it is they are feeling at any given time and you know what? That is a-ok.

It is okay to sit there and be sad. It is okay to not want to smile or go out to lunch with a friend because their peppy, infectious laugh is not something that you want to hear today. It is okay to cry in the bathtub one (or five) good times to get some of the tears out. It is okay to sit by the window while playing cheesy, sad love songs from the 80s and imagining that they wrote that song with you in mind. It is more than okay to throw pillows and shoes and dishes (although I suggest buying some cheap dollar store ones if you are planning on throwing them. Dishes are expensive) against a wall if you are not harming yourself or another. It’s okay to write cheesy, sappy poetry that doesn’t rhyme if it helps you get your feelings out. Or watching P.S I love you a million times and rewinding the part where they are in the restaurant and he tells her that he never planned to fall in love with her at least 15 times over because damn it, it makes you cry and you need a good cry today!

It is okay to just be.

It is not okay, however, to try and fake your way into happiness to appease others around you. Or to ignore your hurt. It won’t go away. It doesn’t magically stop. It doesn’t make you weak, or less of a person if you are sad or mad or angry or depressed. We seem to be so evolved for many things in this day and age but mental health is not one of those things we seem to be able to deal with. It is so fucking taboo at this point to say “Hey, I think something is a little off in my brain.” And you know what, that isn’t okay. We don’t ask to be hurt. We don’t ask to be upset or angry or any of the things that we are, but we are.

And it’s okay because we can just be.

The One True Prince

When I was a mere child, my parents did not allow me to watch MTV for fear of me growing up into a tattooed/pierced weirdo-adult thing (jokes on you dad!) so instead, I was subjected to my father’s taste in music. His style ranged from Elvis (the one true King) to The Eagles (Witchy Woman is my fave hit) to Patsy Cline all the way back to Prince. Anytime we were in a vehicle somewhere, the radio wouldn’t be set to todays hits, instead it would be on classic soft rock or 80s pop music and country music thrown intermittently in to keep things fresh. Heck, even just being at the house, hanging out, my dad would blast his ancient stereo system and sing along to every song that played. Because of that, I love music.

From the time my eyeballs open in the morning to the time my eyeballs close for the night, I am trying to always listen to something. Heck, even my alarm in the morning is some song playing to wake me up. I listen to Fall Out Boy, Better Than Ezra, Patsy, Stevie Wonder and Prince while getting ready for work, driving to work and obviously being at work. I am the type of person who has to have some sort of music playing or else I will not do anything. It keeps me energized. It alleviates tension, makes me feel at peace.

Prince was (and frankly still is because I cannot accept that he is gone) one of my favorite singers. His voice was full of magic for me, I didn’t have to know all of the words to his music for me to listen to him and fall in love. And his style? I was never one for flashy outfits, jewelry or headscarves but when he wore it? I could swear it never looked better on anyone else but him. His entire energy was just overwhelming to me. He was an absolute pioneer of music for his time. I didn’t come around until the early 90s but by that time, he already made a name and a place for himself in this world. He was unapologetically Prince. He knew who he was and he never ashamed to be himself. When Warner Bros tried to take ownership of his name and his music, he fought back, changed his “name” and changed the game so he could play on his own terms. He didn’t let his gender, his body, his race define who he was as a musician. He was described at “Rocks greatest ever natural talent” and honestly, he far surpassed that. His voice was just absolutely incredibly, he didn’t need auto tune to fix any snafus because he didn’t have any. His raw talent is still what astounds me to this day. He played countless instruments, he even played almost all the music for his earlier albums. BY HIMSELF.

Prince was the best type of person. He found faith, clung to it. He donated money to help keep historical places open, he was a vegetarian. He made beautiful music. He was, all in all, the best. Words cannot due justice to this legend but I for one, know how blessed I am to have walked the same Earth at the same time that he did. My life has been shaped by his music, by his talent and by his life.

But life is just a party and parties weren’t meant to last.*


Fancy Friday

This morning I woke up late (as usual).

I jumped in the shower and I mentally figured out an outfit for today.

I decided upon a new floral print shirt and a pair of jeans that make my booty look banging.

Got out of said shower and did my hair, put on a little make up, let the doggy out (I admit it, ’twas me), got dressed and admired myself in the mirror.

For a split second, actually, I should add that. It’s vital for my story time. I looked in the mirror and I was upset. Because I “looked fat” in the mirror.

Now, I was home alone, well with the company of my fur children who cannot make comments on my outward appearance (which is a good thing, Tick would be a little sassy) so I made comments to myself about how “terrible and jiggly and unfit and disgusting” I looked. I made a lot. I looked around the room to try and find a different shirt. One that was baggy enough to not show off my bodacious bod and I was already running late enough that if I literally did not leave the house 3 mins prior, I would be late. So I had no choice but to continue to wear said “fat” shirt and suffer the consequences.

Until I realized something. The shirt didn’t make me look fat. If I looked fat, I would have been fat even before the shirt was laid on my body. The shirt was cute, and I wanted to show it off. And why did it matter that I looked a little lumpy in the shirt? It wasn’t like I was going to take off the sweater that I layered over it anyway, so when I sat down I could just “casually” drape the sweater across my tummy in a way that you wouldn’t be able to see the “offending” rolls. And frankly, whose business was it that I was a little chubby? Literally no one I work with has ever made any rude comments about my lack-of-supermodel-body anyway. (My hair…yes…but not the body) And what did I, Kaylie Jane, care about IF they said anything anyway? Why should I? We are so sadly programmed to look at our bodies (male and female) and tear ourselves down every single day, least we feel something good about it. If we are overly positive than we are considered vain and superficial. Why is that? Why can we compliment strangers on the sidewalk, in walmart, in the bookstore about their hair make up shirt shoes face selves but we can’t genuinely appreciate the bodies that we have been blessed with? The bodies that get us out of bed in the mornings, the bodies that protect our guts from the outside world, the body that is uniquely ours and ours alone? Why?

I wore that shirt today, and my booty jeans and I felt fine all day. When the nagging voice in the back of my brain said “stand up straight and suck in that tummy”, I told her to STFU. I mean, I did stand up straighter, good posture is important.

From now on, Ima work those booty jeans and own dat t-shirt.


Where in the world is Kaylie San Deigo?

Okay, I blatantly ripped that off from Carmen but since she’s been off gallivanting around Lord knows where for as long as I have known, whatcha gonna do about it? Yeah, that’s what I thought!

Anyway, it’s been a good minute (or a trillion, but whose counting?) since my last post and for that I apologize. You see, my life has kinda been in a rut. I am not as excited about anything anymore, all I seem to want to do lately is sleep and read. I get exhausted so much more and I wish I knew why. To put it blunt, I got no mo rhythm. I have been uninspired lately and who wants to read about that? So instead of posting, I just stopped. I told myself that once I got better, I would be back posting away amazing things, making people laugh and cry and feel things, because that’s what I like to read. But, instead of getting better, I just lazed around the house and tucked this into the far corner of my brain so I wouldn’t feel guilty about neglecting yet another thing of mine. But, here I am.

To fill you in on what has been going on lately, here goes.

  • M is back! I am not sure if I told you guys that already or not. If I did, well just erase that from your memory and get re-excited with me! If I haven’t, well now you know! It is very exciting! She came home the day before Thanksgiving. My heart has been so happy for that!
  •  I got a sewing machine from “Santa”, I am trying to learn how to refashion clothes, I am already an avid Goodwill and thrift store shopper. I have gone through the blog 3 times now! (I am trying my darnedest to tag her page here and I can’t! I am a failureeeeee!!!!) I have also been pouring through the Renegade Seamstress’s amazing blog as well. Seriously, if you want a fantastic blog to read, check hers out!  ( *If someone can help me link these two ladie’s blog I will bake you cookies!
  • I set a hearty goal for myself to read 100 books this year! I have already read 6 (and yes, before you ask, they are adult sized novels. No namby-pamby baby books here!) And I am between 4 books at the moment… yeah, I am one of those people who read more than one book at a time! I am a monster!
  •  I will be (hopefully) going back to school in the fall, so I can wrap up my A.A degree so I can start on another chapter of my life! Anyone wanna donate to the “Kaylie Needs to Finish School” Fund? Anyone???
  • I am trying to work on being a happier/not so anxious person. It is incredibly difficult.

So there you have it, even though I haven’t been posting, I have been busy. I promise to post more, even if not that many people read this. I do however appreciate those that do! That’s all for this post, folks! Be on the lookout for me!

*That’s a picture of me and my Barka-doodle

Nothing like a lil bit of irrationality….

So, the other day I was driving down the interstate for a lunch date with mah M and my Low Tire Pressure light came on and I instantly felt the car shaking and I just knew that I was about to die in a fiery wreck after my car zoomed off the road, taking everyone with me and killing everyone.

  Well, I made it to lunch fairly unscathed which started my brain into thinking and listing all of my irrational fears I have about the world. Which, I have a lot and frankly, they are kinda embarrassing. I mean, I own up to all of them, but it’s a little shameful nonetheless.

Freddy Kruger. Yes, I realize that he’s a character in a movie or rather movies. Most of which were made before I was born. And somewhere down the line I heard he was based off of some creepy pedophile but that’s beside the point for me. He terrifies me to this day because of his M.O. He kills people in their freaking sleep! And I love to sleep! For some unknown reason, my oldest sister made me watch one of the earlier films when I was younger and pretty much scarred me for the rest of my life. Thanks Manda! You’re the best!

Driving by a semi… I know this sounds cliché but my fear spawns from something else. I don’t mind getting closed in on the interstate by semis, that’s whatever to me. You can put one on each side of me and it’s not a big deal. No, instead my fear is this, I hate driving right next to them because I am terrified that my tire will get too close to their tire and their poky bolts (or whatever they are) that are on there will puncture my tire and I will be sent careening off the road into an untimely death on my part.

Cotton balls.I hate these. I loathe these. If I could gather raw cotton up and burn it all, I would. Yes, I realize that the clothes that are currently covering my body are made up of cotton. The bed sheets that I slumber upon are also made of cotton. And that’s okay with me, I hate raw cotton. Or cotton balls. They disgust me. Just looking at them make my teeth itch and my skin crawl.

Witnessing someone throw a cigarette butt out in front of me while I am driving. Again, I know I sound like a weirdo but hear me out. I always panic when I see someone ahead of me flick their cigarette out the window and I see those death sticks colliding with the asphalt and the little embers just going up and all I can think about is the fact that in like 2.3 seconds my car is going to drive over it and somehow I’ll have a gas leak and then my whole car will blow up and there will be pieces of me flying every where and my poor family will have to put me back together like a puzzle.

Falling asleep at night with the lights on. Let me explain this one, because I realize how weird it might sound. There have been numerous occasions where I have fallen asleep at like 10 or so at night, just kinda tipped myself over on my bed (or floor) and closed my eyes for just a second and woken up like 3 hours later staring at the bright light on the fan and I get so scared that I cannot breathe. I don’t know what it is about it but it just pure terrifies me. Its almost like I am just startled and then my heart is beating super hard in my chest and I can’t catch my breath and it is a downhill battle.

Rocking Horses. I hate/loathe/detest rocking horses. I refuse to have one in my home. I don’t have kids either so that’s also a reason why I don’t have one…. but still. I hate these things. I feel like there were all handcrafted by Satan down in Lava Land. I don’t like looking at them in real life and if I’m ever watching a movie where one shows up, I cover my eyeballs and look away. These things creep me the F out. I absolutely hate these things.

These are some of the worst fears I have and while I realize that none of these are (probably) going to kill me, they terrify me nonetheless.  What are your fears?


What I like about you

In my 23 years of breathing I have heard plenty of other humans opinions on varies aspects of my life. From my career choice, hair cut, tattoos, shoes and even a Christmas tree; I think I have heard it all.

I’ve said before, I was always a tad bit strange. I like “different” styles; colored hair, eccentric tattoos, facial piercings. If it wasn’t close to the norm, I loved it. Now, I was a slightly chubby, acne prone, pubescent “child” when I first heard the likes of Fall Out Boy, and from then on I knew that there was finally a place for me amongst the world. There were other people out there that enjoyed the same things that I enjoyed.

Let me back up a little to kinda help point this in the right direction so you understand where exactly I am getting. You see, my two older sisters are absolutely gorgeous, and I am pretty sure if you have followed along to this blog you’ve heard that before. They are both tall, slender, luscious golden blonde hair, ocean blue eyes; I’m telling you they could model. I, on the other hand, sport green/gray eyes, dumpy posture and I hang closer to the ground at 5’4 whereas they are both almost 6 foot each. I prayed and waited and  prayed some more for the day to finally arrive where I resembled them instead of what I actually looked like. I tried to wear more makeup, attempted to look a little more “feminine” with my clothing choices and contemplated coloring my already dark brown mop to resemble their naturally light color. I couldn’t make peace with how I looked. For as long as I can remember, any conversation that I held with people who knew my sisters would always include, “Your sisters are gorgeous girls!” and as vain as it sounds, I was always upset that I wasn’t included in that. I spent so much of my time wishing I could be someone else, be prettier skinnier tanner  better different than who I actually was that I forgot that I could be all of those things. But I didn’t actually have to be any of those things either.

I wanted so badly to be like the girls who decorated the cover of trashy magazines, yet I knew I just wouldn’t. It wasn’t possible. Even now, I’ll see celebrities who are my age (or younger) and wonder why in the world I can’t look like them (Demi Lovato I am looking at you kid!)! Weight aside, my skin isn’t clear, my hair is kinda in that weird “in between” stage of short and medium length, I don’t have the whole “make up” thing down. Basically, I’m just a strange mix of an adult who looks like a child 97% of time, and the other 3%… I just look awkward. And, I wish I could tell you that one day I just woke up and came to the conclusion that I will never be cookie cutter “pretty”, but that would be a lie and I do try my best to shy away from those. No, instead I have days where I look in the mirror and think, “Well hey there! You are kinda pretty today!” and then other days where I just cry. And cry and cry. And then throw stuff around and pound my fists against my hips and cry some more.

We hear so much about “Body Positivity” now and I think that is a such a great thing! We need more people to be in love with the bodies that we were granted with instead of lusting over someone else’s. I do admit though, I have a hard time with it for myself. I can rattle of 9 trillion compliments to strangers about their bodies, faces, clothes etc., but when it comes to myself? Well, it’s true about being our own worst critic. I do however, feel like I have (in a way) finally grew into my awkwardness. I colored my hair purple (on accident, no less) started accumulating more and more ink and wear cat shirts on every available date. I might not totally “dig” who I am, but I am closer today than I was yesterday!

*This picture was just one of the few that I took during a Family Photo shoot! That’s my oldest baby, Lord Barkawa. She is around 13/14 years old. 🙂


Being a light in a dark world.

We live in a cold world. I have said it plenty of times, and to be truthful, I will say it a few dozen more times before my last post I am sure of that. There is so much ugly and hurt in this world. So much hate, jealousy, sickness and fight. You can’t flip on the news without hearing of a shooting or a bombing or dying anymore. You can’t scroll through your newsfeed on Facebook or Instagram or Twitter, or wherever else you look, without seeing photos of victims. See their haunted eyes and their weary bodies. The world has been ate up by greed and hatred. People are fleeing their homelands to try and get away from monsters, but they still chase.

Monsters don’t come wrapped up in a black box where you always know who they are and what their intentions are. They come in every gender, age, nationality. They are every profession. I just read an article today on an (Ex) NFL player who took out a hit on his pregnant girlfriend so he wouldn’t have to pay child support. So he made the choice that killing a woman and his baby would be much easier then sending a check from his high salary every month. The child survived, thankfully.  But that is the type of world we live in. Where people get tired of looking at something and decide to take them out. We live in a world ruled by “Political Correctness” rather than compassion and stability.

*I started to write this post roughly a week ago and to be honest, I got so upset while trying to gather my thoughts into actual words that I just saved this bad boy as a draft and told myself I would just have to come back to it.

My heart aches for this world, for the people who live in constant fear, the children that seem to be left behind, the animals who get kicked, shot, drowned because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Every time I turn on the news and I see another face of a child with no shoes and defeat in his eyes all I can think is, “We did this. We made the world ugly.” Because we did. Because we turned our backs on the drunks, the homeless, the hurting and the lost. We looked the other way when they fell in the streets, in the rain, in the dirt. We said, “But that isn’t my problem. I didn’t lose my job, try meth, have a baby at 15. I MADE the right choices in my life. I went to school and graduated. I got a job and paid my dues.” And you know what? You’re right. You are absolutely correct, you didn’t make their mistakes. You did what you needed to do, for you and your own. But you can’t tell me you’ve never needed help. The world as we know it, well I don’t foresee it staying the same. Can’t we band together to love each other? To help each other? Because everyone needs a little help every once in a while.

I am a Christian but I don’t know that I have been a good one. You see, with everything that has been going on in the world I find myself scared, terrified about what the outcome will be. I worry about if it’s the end of times and if it is, will I end up where I want to be? When I first heard about the refuges coming this way my initial thought was, “No. We can’t even accommodate for our vets, our homeless, our own people!” And while I still feel like all of that is the truth, who am I to say that they can’t be helped? Who am I, who claims love above else, to say no? Yes, I am apprehensive to give my home up to a stranger, but at the end of  the day I am not showing any love to anyone if my heart is turned away. I worry that I don’t show the love of Christ enough, and frankly, I probably don’t. I can’t tell you the last time I visited a church, or cracked my bible open. I pray, but most of the time it ends up being a generic “Thank you for my home, food, husband, dog, cats, job. Please bring my best friend home safe. Thank you. Amen.” I don’t thirst for Him like I did before, I don’t think constantly of Him like before. Why? I have no clue. But I can tell you something, that’s gotta change.

*So, this post has kinda taken a different leap (I guess would be the best term) from what I had intended, but if I am being honest, my posts start with a word or an idea and just spawn from there!

John 15:12 “This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you…”

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War on Christmas?

I am sure that by now you have heard of  the “Christmas Cup Debacle of 2015”. If you haven’t, you must be related to my husband because he also knew nothing. And he visits two different Starbucks A WEEK with his job. Basically, people are outraged that Starbucks decided to go with a minimalistic red cup with a green logo on the front this year. You got people screaming injustice! Rage! STARBUCKS HATES JESUS!

Wait… what? You are upset because a company, who has never before claimed to be the least bit “Christian”, made a generic red and green cup. That you will use once and toss? You have people shouting to “Ban Starbucks and everything they stand for” because you’re unhappy about the design? Because it isn’t Jesus enough? Last time I checked, the reindeer, snowflakes, snowmen and sleds that have previously adorned said mugs, also never depicted any sort of religious scene either and yet no one was upset then. Even if they were, they didn’t make videos telling everyone to boycott a coffee shop or go on long Facebook rants saying how despicable this place is, for yet again, refusing to promote something it doesn’t stand for. This is the equivalent of being upset at Hobby Lobby, a Christian based company, for being closed on Sundays so their employees can go to worship and spend time with their families. You can’t bring up one “injustice” and sweep everything else under the rug because it works in your favor. If you are so dependent on a cup to solidify your belief in a Higher Power, than I think you have some issues you need to work out on your own time.

I am almost to the point where I don’t want to turn on the news or scroll through my feed on Facebook because of the amount of people complaining about “Political Correctness” and how offended they are about everything. How did we get to the point in this world that we are more concerned by the color on a coffee cup than we are by the homeless freezing in the streets, human trafficking, drugs killing our kids, children dropping out of school and having babies when they’re just babies themselves, our Vet’s barely being able to afford to live? If everyone showed as much concern for issues that actually matter, rather then a cup that you don’t like the color of, don’t you think we could make some drastic changes? Instead of lying to the barista about your name being Merry Christmas, maybe you should just tell them God bless instead. Walk someone to Jesus, instead of shouting indignities to those whose job is to hand you the cup of coffee you asked for.

In the meantime, I will be sitting pretty with my coffee cup being thankful that I could even afford their expensive brew.


Cardio is hardio and an update on my life

How ya doing? It’s been a while since we last got together, hasn’t it? Like 2 weeks? I’m sorry, I get so busy I forget that I have 4 people that actually read my blurbs. I will try to do  better. I pinky promise.

Now that we have the formalities outta the way, let’s get physical. Wait, that’s not right… let’s talk about physical stuff like the gym and running.

Still hate it. Still sucks. I am still going so that should count for something, right? I have completed 3 (count em suckas), 3 weeks of Cardi-Is-Hardio {Thanks mandals} classes and I have many more in my future. Let me give you a “run down” of how these classes actually run, fast and sweaty. Yeah, that’s what they entail. I swear the instructor has got to be a robot or an alien or something cause there is no way a human should be able to move that fast and not break a sweat. It is unreal. We start with a few minutes of warm up and then a whole lotta moving and grooving and sweating (mostly from me) and some more moving and lifting and jumping and crying (again, all me) and then we “cool” down. It’s an hour of pure hell. But I like it.

Every time I look in the mirror I get to see how much more muscle is on my legs then before. They are easily my favorite part of my body. And let me add, I have ugly legs. I don’t say that for sympathy either, they are really ugly. I have a scar the size of a quarter on my right kneecap that is bright pink, and a weird squiggly looking scar/bruise thing going on on my left shin. I have plenty more scars, but when you do a lookie-loo of my leggies, that’s what you first see. And I HATE it. I hate the way my legs will never look pretty in a skirt or a dress anymore. I hate that every time I look down I am reminded that I almost died in my accident, and I hate how my legs are always discolored. I bruise extremely easy and the bruises will stay for months, so I always look worse for the wear. But now, every time I glance down, I see how strong my legs actually are. They have carried me for the past 23 years, and will continue to do so until Jesus calls me home.

I see a little bit of definition in my arms when I lift weights and that’s kinda nice. I wish I could tell you that I had a change of heart and now I love the gym and I eat super healthy and I dropped 15 pounds in 2 months but that would be a damn lie. Truthfully, when the alarm goes off every morning I get so angry, and I question my life choices and I try and talk myself into pulling the covers back over my head and sleeping for another hour. But I get up and put my shoes on and walk out the door. I try to pump myself up in the car on the drive by listening to upbeat music like FOB, Imagine Dragons and Panic At The Disco. Okay, so they might not be what you would personally consider “upbeat” but they get my heart pumping.

Gym front; it’s going good. It’s going at least which is good for me.

Life wise; here is the fun stuff! My huzzy and I are still in the process of fixing up the house. I promise to do a post soon about all the fun projects we have done around el casa. Halloween is coming up (Count em, one, two {three, that’s a song…. look it up. The Maine is great} days) and my costume is ALMOST complete! I am so stinking excited! I will do a post about it! I kinda/semi made it so I am really proud!

MY BEST FRIEND COMES HOME IN LESS THAN 30 DAYS FROM HER MISSION TRIP!! So, be on the look out for a post about her grand adventures and her epic welcome back bash!

I think I about wrapped everything up for you. I do plan on being more prompt on my writing. If you guys have any ideas or future topics or questions for me, I would love to hear them. I want to have more “happy” followers!

Until next time!



I know you guys all love my punny blog names! Right? Maybe… I don’t care. Anyway, this weeks Gym Time Trauma includes… you guessed it…. Cardio boot-kicked my ass-camp class!

Dear Lord Sweet Baby Jesus Up In Heaven it was bad. It was hard. It was miserable. But I did it! Or at least a good portion of the hour long class; I did have to sit out a few times because I am lazy and out of shape and thought I was on my way to meet with Jesus more than once.

This class is no joke. Seriously, it was hard. For me at least. The teacher just bounced around the whole time with her peppy smile and hand clapping. She is amazing btw, she’s one of those instructors that, instead of telling you that your form is wrong and leave it at that, she’ll tell you how to fix it and make sure you understand before she walks away. Which is helpful for people like me who used to get their work outs from Seventeen Magazine and work out in front of the mirror in my bedroom at midnight cause I had no idea what I was actually doing.

This whole weight loss journey is exhausting and I so badly just want to quit. I want to sleep in until 6:30 everyday instead of getting up at 5 to be at the gym at 5:30 (or rather 5:45 cause that is how I do) and I want to eat greasy Hungry Howie’s pizza every day and not care. But I can’t at this point. I have seen what my body can do, and while it might take me a good 12 minutes to actually run/walk a mile and I can only lift baby dumbbells, it’s more than I could do a month ago. I don’t crave candy as much as I used too; don’t get me wrong, if you put sour patch kids in front of me they will get eaten. We haven’t bought any pop for our house in a really long time, we stick to milk and juices and of course water. We eat fairly healthy dinners as well, thankfully my Huzzy is a great cook and can whip up yummy healthy dishes.  I don’t eat fast food for lunch anymore every day. I have ate McDonalds and Sonic a few times but not as much as I previously had simply because it wasn’t worth it. After you put in an hour at the gym, eating greasy French Fries and chocolate shakes doesn’t mean as much. You basically just wasted that hour.

I have dropped about 3 pounds in the last week or so, I am down to 147.something. It isn’t much but it’s enough for me to see that I can do it. I can lose the weight if I try.

Thank you for everyone who has been following me on this trip, and for everyone who has given me kind words of encouragement! Sometimes that is all that keeps me going!