Operation Big Butt – Day 1: Today’s the Day!

Hello. My name is Patricia Wilson-Smith, and I am a career dieter. I’ve always, always been fat. I don’t remember a time when I wasn’t on a diet, or shopping in the husky section of some store to find clothes that fit. It’s who I am, but it’s not who I want to be. I think I can be different. And that’s the reason for this new blog.

Okay. It’s the day after Thanksgiving, and I’ve spent all day today trying to determine whether or not I’m better at eating, or sleeping. Regrettably, the turkey and dressing induced coma I’ve been in all day would seem to indicate that I’m pretty gosh darned good at both.

It occurred to me after a marathon pig-out session with my family on Thanksgiving Day, (as I struggled to reach the top of a flight of stairs) that I have to make a change. Then I found myself getting winded walking back down the stairs, and I knew I was really in trouble - I mean, damn! Who gets winded walking down a flight of stairs? Not cool…

I feel unhealthy, and I look like crap -my skin is blotchy, and yesterday, somebody guessed my age to be 7 years more than it is. I wanted to kick his ass, but I couldn’t get my leg to go high enough.

So - let it be known that on this day, Friday, November 23, 2007, I hereby pronounce to the world that by this SAME date next year (November 23, 2008), I will be 100+ pounds lighter. That’s right – I am declaring war on my big butt, here and now, and by erecting this blog, I’ll ensure that the whole world knows it. Or, could know about it. You know what I mean.

And before you ask – I’ve already sought help from NBC’s “The Biggest Loser” - well over a year ago. They weren’t buyin’ what I was sellin’:

And so here I am again, on another Thanksgiving Day, trying to recover from another hellishly wonderful dinner, one for which my mother baked two Red Velvet cakes (among a host of other butt-burgeoning desserts), and then blamed ME when she caught me with a slice in each fist, curled up in a fetal position on the kitchen floor, comatose.

A brief aside: Just knowing that my mother’s Red Velvet cake is in the house causes me to have strange, unexplained black-outs, during which I gorge myself (or so I’m told). It’s a horrible way to live. And when I’m not blacked out, I can hear her cakes calling me, taunting me, daring me to indulge:

“Pat – where you at, girl? Come and get summa ma good ole velvety lovin’…”

Rat-bastard Red Velvet cake. As of today, I’m turning a blind, uh, ear not only to it, but to all things fattening. As of today, I start the journey that will get me to my more beautiful, more healthy self. The funny thing is, I have absolutely no idea how I’m going to do it.  What I do know is that my thighs no longer rub together. My thighs are next level. Now they just stay glued to one another, while my lower legs do all the work. Yep. Not cool.

Stay tuned for weigh-in and more of my thoughts tomorrow.

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~ by patwilsonsmith on November 24, 2007.