That's right, I'm staring down the barrell of my 30th birthday. With all of the changes that have happened in the last year and a half, I want to take the time to reflect on my twenties and to chronicle my attempts at living a healthier,
happier, more fulfilled life going into my thirties. I need to
prove to myself that I can beat my genetics and unlearn old habits.
Earlier this year, one of my closest friends, who has lost a
lot of weight by eating better and exercising, said something that I haven’t
been able to let go of: “I don’t want to spend my thirties worrying about my
weight.” She’s turning thirty this year,
and I’m turning thirty next year, and both of us spent a good bit of our
twenties overweight and out of shape. So I’m stealing her revelation, but I
don’t think she’ll mind.
I may look harmless, but I'll steal your revelations and your pictures.
I know being dissatisfied with much of how my twenties
turned out doesn’t make me special, nor does being fat in the land of taco
shells made out of Doritos. But I think
getting healthy the good old fashioned way, getting happy without pills, and
becoming more assertive one totally uncomfortable situation at a time might
make me a little special.
I've taken some positive steps already: I quit smoking in November, 2011. I've lost 110 pounds since February, 2008. I hired a personal trainer last week.
I’m the
queen of failed New Years-esque resolutions, so I should probably also figure
out how I’m going to make sure this time is different than the grand plans I made at
the beginning of 2012, ‘11, and ’10 and... well, you get the idea.