The weight of empty pockets

I have found a new inspiration for losing weight.

Being broke.

Yes, ladies and gentleman. I have reached the point where I really don't look all that hot in my clothes, and I don't have the money to buy bigger clothes. I've got some dang cute clothes in boxes in my shed that I haven't been able to wear in years, and it would be like winning a free shopping spree if I were able to wear them. And, I'm guaranteed to lose a few pounds when I open the boxes after a brown recluse comes scuttling out and bites me and I land in the hospital for a few weeks while I'm being detoxified.

This needing to lose a few is a really great thing to happen to me. I needed a fire lit under my rear, and not having clothes to wear to work is a blazing inferno underneath my flat cheeks, misshapen from hours and hours of being planted in a desk chair.

Plus, working out is a great stress reliever. I realized I needed to do something after I threw a hissy fit at one of my coworkers, delivered in a style of passive-agressive silent slamming papers on counters that I think I really should patent.

This is a GREAT time in my life to jump back on the "my body is a temple" bandwagon. I can hear my mom groaning - Mom, I promise not to turn back into workout Nazi. But the holiday season is here again, and this year, I can't eat jack crap anyway thanks to my wheat allergy. What better time to not want to eat jack crap?

So, I'm posting my starting point here - 162. (For the record, 10lbs of that is metal from my hip replacements. But, it's weight that is on my knees and ankles and feet, so I'm counting it.)

Stay tuned! 140, here I come!