Trouble

Big Trouble.

In 20 days, I am getting on a plane for Cabo San Lucas.

The trouble? I.Am.Fat.

I need a plan. An extreme plan. A plan that will allow me to lose 10 pounds in 20 days, even though I know I need to lose more; I'm just picking a number that sounds like a reasonable amount to be able to lose in that short amount of time.

I do this every single time a major event arrives. Like my brother's wedding, last July. You know, the one where my other brother got arrested the night before? Yeah, that one? Well, about three months before the wedding, I say to myself, "Oh good. I have three months to lose weight. No problem. I can do it."

But then, things in life get in the way. Like margaritas on the deck on Friday afternoons in the summer, or Pool Boys by the pool on Saturday afternoons. Or neighborhood BBQs, and crisp bottles of un-oaked Chardonnay, and the next thing you know, I've got like two weeks to lose the weight I had planned on losing two months previous.

And it's happened again. Twenty days. I have to lose ten pounds in twenty days. Can I do it? Aside from duct-taping my mouth, I'm not so sure. If someone could just come up with a menu for me, I could follow it. If someone could just make me whatever I'm supposed to eat with however many calories in each meal in order to lose weight, I would do it.

Let's see, I could eat an apple for breakfast every day. Or a bowl of oatmeal with granola for breakfast. Lunches are pretty easy too. I can weigh my meat (get your heads out of the gutter please), and eat two slices of one-point bread, and a slice of cheese and a tomato for like six points. I could also eat an ounce or two of Light Cheddar Chips (which are really, really good!).

Maybe if I just forced myself to eat a Lean Cuisine or Weight Watcher meal every night and not make any social plans for the next few weeks, it might be possible.

Microwave popcorn, Smart-Pop Orville Red is always a good way to get quantity. I'm all about the quantity, the crunch, the feeling of being filled up. When I eat popcorn, I go a little crazy. It's not very polite or feminine either. I shove the popped kernels in so fast you'd think I was a Survivor contestant who'd just won a bag for competing in a challenge. Of course, I'd never last on Survivor, not one hour. I am convinced of that. So, maybe it's not like I'm a Survivor contestant.

I don't know.

What I do know is that last week I worked out A LOT and I enjoyed it. I think I've found a weekly routine that might work for me.

This is what I did:

Monday: Fitness Yoga
Tuesday: Treadmill, two miles
Wednesday: A Strength Fitness class that kicked my ass.
Thursday: Treadmill, two miles (gotta love being able to watch Maury during a nice workout!)
Friday: Fitness Yoga

It was a great week cuz I mixed it up, did something different every day so I wasn't bored. So, my plan up until our Cabo trip is to work out 15 times in these 20 days. M-F, no excuses. And to stick to my Weight Watcher points. (I went back on Friday, and while it was a not-good number that blared on the scale, it was the same number as it was in November, which meant I got through the holidays without gaining.)

But still. That is hardly enough to make me feel good about getting into a bathingsuit in twenty days.

The only other thing I can think of is to .... Nah, I was going to write something mean about finding someone bigger than me to sit next to by the pool, but then I decided not to because that is just mean. And I try not to be a mean person.

Oh, I guess I just said that.

But, I guess it's OK because I'm just talking about a hypothetical fat person and not a real fat person, right?

Never mind. Tomorrow, it's for real. So, what to do now?

I'm headed to the fridge to grab the last of Ramblin's Tim Tams! Yes, can you believe it; I still have the caramel ones!