I'm down a pound and a half.
I'm fucking ecstatic.
I shattered that plateau, like a boss.
I feel amazing.
Every part of my body feels thinner, but not quite thin enough...
I'm so close, I'm getting there.
As a great bitch once said, "I don't get even... I get ahead."
Life is truly great.
I'm so ecstatically happy.
I no longer feel shitty, like I'm dying every day...
This low carb thing has become really liberating.
I get to work around my weight intelligently, and come up with the best possible plan of action to lose more weight; perfect for my analytical self.
Today is my fiber day.
In an effort to help out my intestines, today I'm using my regularly allowed carb intake (~2g carbs) to consume celery, and only celery.
It'll still have the same effects of my low carb diet, whilst enabling me to take a crap.
Elegant, I know.
I'm fitting into jeans I previously hadn't worn for months, because I was too fucking morbidly obese.
They fit beautifully snug, and make me look amazing...
Whereas before in the same jeans I looked like a freshly pressed sausage casing.
I can't fucking believe it.
Instead of being 34 lbs away from my goal weight, I am now 9 lbs away.
That's just crazy insane for me to contemplate.
And I couldn't be more thankful.
Well, I don't know if that's the right word.
I've fought myself for years.
Blood, sweat, and the cliche tears to get this.
To finally get what I want.
So maybe thankful isn't what I'm going for here...
My stomach just growled.
And I've never been happier.