Well here we go! Are you along for the ride?

It's time. This blog has been with me through divorce, childbirth, exploding toilets, daylight savings times- and all the other bits and bobs.

Now shit is getting real. I am almost 38  39 years old (seriously, I had to think about that). I love food. I love to cook. I love a good glass of wine. I love my kids MORE. I love my family MORE than I love scallops wrapped in bacon. I am not getting younger. My kids are 7 and 5- my little, J, has conductive hearing loss and we are learning sign, and struggling with the anxiety associated with it. Every minute while he is awake and we are home he says "Mama, where are you?" if I am not directly in front of him. He has a great therapist, and we have an amazing team- and he'll be having more surgery in a few weeks, which should return hearing in both ears to a mild loss. Still, he needs me, in an heartwrenching way. I went to bathroom today and failed to tap him on the shoulder, and say "mommy is going to pee"- the tears and epic meltdown took twenty minutes to manage, as opposed to the 30 seconds it took me to pee.

That said, I'm almost 39. I am fat. I have had gastric bypass. Not a lot of people know that. It was in 2005 and I lost 100 pounds. Then I met a man, got married, got pregnant, gained 90 pounds. Had baby M. Lost 50. Moved. Got pregnant. Gained 20 pounds. Had baby J.  Lost 10 pounds. Got divorced, thus losing multiple emotional pounds. Joined the PTO. Focused on raising two boys solo. Took amazing steps with my career. Started coaching soccer. Lost myself. Became so paranoid about dying I have had 5 EKG's in three months (all totally normal). While this fear is helping me meet my deductible, every twinge I feel in my arm or jaw is not me having a heart attack, but a manifestation of my anxiety. However, if I don't make really significant changes, my kids could be waking up next to my cold, dead, body. Yes, That's horrible to say. It's something no mom wants for her kids. And I refuse to let that happen.

Now, it's my time. I'm going to use foul language here, so if your five year old is extremely precocious and can read, tell them to go fuck off for a second. Oops. Already dropped an eff bomb.

I am NOT GIVING AWAY MY SHOT (thanks Lin-Manuel Miranda)! This is MY DAY. This is MY CHOICE. And yes, I am choosing rabbit food. Today for lunch I had celery, tomatoes, onions, red pepper, carrots, and chicken breast. And you know what? It tasted kind of crappy- but then I thought of the fight I am choosing to engage in, and it tasted like VICTORY. If you want far yummier food to achieve your victory, go check out Foodie Fiasco's blog. This gal is a freaking teenager and has recreated all of the yummies to fit Paleo, gluten free, vegan diets. There are brownie recipes there people!

I WILL KICK FAT'S ASS. As opposed to being a fat ass. Totally different things.

I am not fucking around this time. Over the past week I did a "water challenge"- the point is to drink half your body weight in ounces of water. I called my doctor, I made sure this was safe because as a fattie, that's a shit ton of water. She loved the idea and encouraged me to do it. Not only did I meet my daily goal, I blew that goal out of the water (giggle, and water connection intended). And I got results! I didn't want crap food. My blood pressure is better than it has been since pre-baby M. My pulse is a lovely 65. My rosacea is way less boiled lobster and more slightly flushed. My hair even looks better in an "I need a haircut and my color is from a box but it's clean" kind of way. I didn't lose an ounce. Instead, I gained a clear vision of what I want from my body, for my body, and for my kids.

I will lose 130 pounds by September 22, 2018. That's my 40th birthday.

Do you hear me world? I WILL DO THIS. Going to blow it out of the park, which is apparently a synonym for kicking ass- not a sports gal! Watch out peeps, I'm going to persist.