Today I renew my Weight Watchers membership. I gave it a shot back in October, weighing in at 122 at my first meeting. At five-foot-two, the minimum weight for me is 109. I was shooting for 110. Then I went to Alaska, fell off the wagon, and never went back to the meetings after returning.
This morning I weighed in at 134.2. The max weight for my height is 137. I still remember the first time I realized that I had broken the 130 mark. I have never in my life weighed this much, and while I am by no means obese, or even really fat by medical standards, I have had to go up a pants size, and jeans that fit me three months will not go past my thighs now. I have BACK FAT now, and love handles...and MUFFIN TOP, ugh! My military uniform is feeling tight, too. I can't button the top two buttons of the pants; I only have one set, and my unit will not purchase more uniform items for me until I've been with them for six months. So I have to wait until at least April's drill weekend to get them.
At last month's drill, I failed my PT test. This is a first for me. I knew I was gonna fail it; I haven't done PT in a year. It was the first time I didn't max out my waist measurement, too. Thirty-one-inch waist; it used to be twenty-seven inches. I have up to six months to retake the test; the earliest I can is April. I'd like to get in shape in time to do it in April; May at the latest.
I want to be in shape; I want to fit my clothes. I was asked by a lady selling purses if I was pregnant. An asshole at work had made fun of me not once, but TWICE for looking pregnant. My stomach is almost the same size at Dee's, and she's five months pregnant. I hate how I look in the mirror. Change starts today.