And So It Begins...

So I've been I was 130 lbs. for all of my 20s.  According to the interwebs, which must be true, that put my BMI at "healthy"...not overweight, not underweight, but just right.  Plus I felt comfortable in my own skin. 

Then my Pappap died.  My family is very Italian, and when we gather to mourn, we eat.

We mourned a lot. 

I was no longer 130, but really didn't sweat it.  I mean, it was an out of the ordinary kind of moment, right?

A few short weeks later, Christmas came, filled with all of those once-a-year indulgences.  Like eggnog.  And cookies.  And eggnog.  And pumpkin pie.  And did I mention eggnog?  Still wasn't concerned, though.  I mean, everyone puts on a few extra pounds around the holidays, right?

Then New Years rolled around.

And Valentine's Day.

You get the picture.

Well, Pappap died over a year ago, and I'm 137 lbs.  I know this isn't exactly obese, and the interwebs tell me I'm still "healthy," but I'm not comfortable in my own skin anymore.  My thighs rub up against each other in a way that makes me think I should grease them to avoid starting a fire.  My skinny jeans scare me.  Sweatpants look more and more appealing with each passing day.

I refuse to accept these 7 extra pounds without a fight.

I want to be back at a steady 130 lbs. before my 30th birthday on July 15th.  That's a good couple months to adjust my eating, try to start running again, and generally eat like a grown-up.  No more nachos for dinner.  I've been trying to do this for a while now, but I'm easily distracted and all about immediate gratification, so I'm hoping the blog will hold me accountable.

Wish me luck!