Things I Will Do, Part Deux...(and some other stuff.)

Here's the Part Deux part:

When I'm not so fat, I will be able to save my life, or someone else's.  The last few days, there's been a couple of stories on the news about fatal house fires in Seattle.  (I know that's morbid, but stay with me, k?)  In one story, the people who survived had to climb onto the roof of the house.  THE ROOF OF THE HOUSE!  So that got me thinking.  What would the chances be of me saving myself in an emergency situation, or being able to help someone else?  Could I climb out a window? Would I even FIT through the window?  Would I have the strength to pull myself to safety?    Could I help someone else get out of danger?  Could I run for my life, if necessary??  Could I fend of an attack of some kind? I don't know the odds of any of us being in a situation where we, literally, had to save our lives or someone else's. But it could happen anywhere, at any time.  And we fatties are sitting ducks for any disaster, natural or man-made.  And that's the truth.

And here's the other stuff:

Last night, I got my before picture taken and my official starting stats entered for the challenge.  REALITY CHECK!  Holy crapola.  The body comp numbers weren't a suprise (duh, I have fat and a lot of it.) and I knew my weight number-ish , but the shock is that I didn't lose any weight last week.  NOT A FREAKING POUND.  The first week I started working out, I lost 4 pounds.  I ate even better this week, worked out more and didn't lose a farking pound!!!  ARGHHHHHHHHH!!!! 

I know I shouldn't get down because of that, it just SUCKS to see that number stay the same after all my hard work AND having to look at my photo in all it's roly-poly glory made it worse.  (My fellow fatties, have you ever seen yourself from the back?  Like a straight on back shot?  Um, that's some scary shit.)   It's amazing how quickly the negative thoughts started rolling in.  I actually cried when I saw the picture.  I can't get it out of my head.  I look at myself in the mirror every day and I've seen myself full-length in dressing rooms but, man...ouch.  OU-FRIGGEN-CH!!!!!!  I just kept thinking... "really?  Really???  REALLY?????? That's what my body looks like?????"  Have I gotten so used to my body that I've deluded myself into thinking that it's not so bad?  Well, now I know it is THAT bad.  It's horrid.  And it's shameful. And it's unhealthy and guarantees me a shorter time on this earth. 

And I will NEVER look that way again.

I don't think God would want me to leave my earthly body too early.  I know it's presumptuous to think I know what God wants (blah blah blah!).  But (1) He let me live this long in spite of two decades of self-destructive behavior and (2) He waited a LONG time for me so I'm pretty sure he's got some unfinished business to take care of in my life (He even said so in Jeremiah 29:11) and (3)  He knows that my physical body keeps me from being the kind of servant I want to be, so I'm thinking He's totally my Big Cheerleader in the Sky.

The odds are against me, but God is for me...so EFF the odds.

Shel~