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19 July 2014, 01:00

My feetsies hurt. I’m covered in sweat and am sitting here with one wet sock on that I can’t bend over to remove. I probably stink, too.

Okay. Probably need to give some background here for everyone. Round abouts 2009 – March maybe – I started walking. I was a fatty mcfatster of late and under tremendous amount of stress, breaking up with a worthless piece of shit boyfriend, no job, no food, stuck in the most heineous of cities on this good, green Earth. The track at the elementary school was about a mile and a half away so I thought I’d walk there. Then, I started walking the track. For about 6 months, I walked, working my way up to running some of the time. I never got to the point of being a real runner, but it was real enough for me. Horrible, sweaty, exercise of the most vile kind. But, it was something to do besides drink large amounts of beer, and I thought maybe supplementing the copious amounts of beer drinking with the walking/running would fill my days. I ended up walking everywhere, doing the track, and losing about 30 pounds in about 4 months. I stopped losing weight as fast the thinner I got. WHAT’S UP WITH THAT? Okay. That’s a different tangent I’ll need to explore later. After four months, I got involved with another piece of shit man, and slowed down on the excercise – okay I stopped. Gained back a bit of weight – 10 or 20 pounds? Broke up with the piece of shit man at the beginning of 2010 and life kinda took a tumble into the dumper with some other crap, so, back to the track I went. This lasted about 6 months, losing 30 more pound (net total of 40) and gaining some hellacious muscle mass. I dropped down like 6 pant sizes.

Well. Around this time, I met [REDACTED] and he started feeding me and stressing me out – so I said, gotta have me some of that and moved in with him. And the excercising and sparse diet stopped. Unemployment, stress, employment, stress, [REDACTED] and all of [REDACTED]‘s shit, stress, moving, stress, more unemployment, stress, regular eating, stress, all took its toll. I ended up over the course of a year, I guessitmate, gaining back the poundage and the hard parts of me became soft and gushy. Sigh.

This brings us up-to-date, to NOW. Presently, gained some weight and look like this:

(artist’s rendering – photograph not available.)

Usually, stress kills my appetite and I don’t eat. So the stressy parts are followed by unstressy, eatty parts. I think that’s how it all happened. Also, I got really fucking old. In my younger days, when my diet consisted of tequillia, Dr. Pepper and bar snacks, I had no trouble being rail thin. Really now, does this girl look stressed out? I was a size six who could stuff a thick, denim shirt into her jeans…. AND still drink 5 or 10 beers.

Yeah, those days are gone. Shit.

Nowadays, I’m living in the midlands of South Carolina, which believe it or not, is a vast improvement over the firey hell that is North Carolina. After moving upteen times, and navigating the rocky rapids that is my current relationship with [REDACTED] which is something that, at least never is dull and uneventful, after experiencing some false starts and detours in what I call my career, I am relatively happy, and will soon be employed. Joy. In 17 days, I start a new job that is scaring the bejesus out of me. I know in my head I can do it, because everything that is required of me, I’ve done before in spades. I have the knowledge, I have the skill, and now I am dah man. Something I’ve always wished for – creating and running my own little world, with the promise of very little office/corporate politics. Now. I’m starting to understand the old adage, be careful of what you wish for, for you may get it. I need a giant dose of self confidence because working at BlahBlahBlah drained whatever confidence I had built up in my abilities away like so much puss out of a blister. It doesn’t help, the giant hot mess that my career has become since coming to the deep fried south.

So, I figured, this would be a good time to be all OCD and get a hold of something I could control and fix and do that for a while. I had started up at the track about a month ago, but it rained so much here in the last two months, I was half thinking I needed to be putting a downpayment on an Ark and prepping for a life of confinement with all my housepets. I didn’t run in the rain, but I did pare down my eating to the bare minimum. I got a bit thinner, and by Zeus’s butthole, that’s about all I needed to trigger deep seeded OCD and put this shit into overdrive.

I’ve got 17 days to do as much as possible. Right now, even [REDACTED] has noticed the change in me, which encourages me even more. I go out there into the breach (horse track) and make the circuit, pushing myself until I’m a sweaty mess that wants to die. I’m never going to be one of those who says, "okay, here’s what I need to do, a steady pace and set distance". I’ll push until my old, fat knees give out and I have the weird ass pains in new and different places. I have learned a little since the last time I did this, overreached, kilt the knees and ended up needing 12 ibuprofen every morning just to be able to walk to the potty. I slow down when I get the twinges of pain. I know. Well, that’s progress for me.

I’ve had people ask why I don’t just walk/run the streets of the city, or at the gym. A) The horse track doesn’t have the overly fit gawkers who stare at the fat girl and wonder why aren’t I at a Dunkin Donuts. I have the occasional stable hand or landscape guy who waves at tme and possibly will call 911 should I pass out in the grass. B) If I go to some gym thing, its too easy to just quit and go home. Going around the track is different. If I want to quit on the track, I can’t cause I’d be stuck out in the field… MOTIVATION. To get the hell home.

Anyway. I’m probably never gonna be Katie – she started out like me but now is a real runner, a real athlete and all healthy and shit. I just am not going to be a tub of goo anymore. TA DAHHH. 17 days. I don’t know how much you can do in 17 days, but I’m going to try and do a buttload to get rid of my buttload.