The Magic Number.

77. Thats just about the ugliest number I have ever seen in my life. Of course, I would have said that to any number that I didn't like if it showed up on the scales.

77. 77. 77. 77.

That number has been repeating in my head. 77. I before my lapse I weighed in at 74. Seventy-Seven. It rolls off the tounge too awkwardy. I don't like it. 77.

So, on Monday morning I wake up, terrified to get of the mechanical beast that humans call 'scales'. I wander in to the kitchen, and brace myself for the truth. I step on them. Then call my mother over to check if I was seeing things or not.

"I think they are broken." I tell her, slightly miserable.

She ushers me off, rearranging them so that the little marker shows exactly on zero, and tells me to hop on again. So I do.

"Seventy Seven." She says finally, and then looks up at me. "I wouldn't want to be you, getting on these scales. What with all of the junk you have been eating lately."

Wow. Thanks Mother. Glad to know you have my back.

Now, this has happened to me before on a health plan. Back then, I got told the number, was extremely disappointed, then ate some chocolate that ruined the rest of my day. This time I knew better, and I am incredibly proud of the way that I guzzled down almost a litre of water, and then went for a long walk to clear my head. I am not letting a silly number ruin what I am trying to achieve.

So, there you have it. The crappy number of 77, which is going to be used to see my progress for the next few months. I will never like the number 77, so that is why I will change it to a number more pretty.

What do you think about 60? I think it has a certain ring to it, don't you?

The Hunger Games.

"Despite the groosling and the fish, my stomach's growling, and I know I'm going to have what we call a hollow day back in District 12. That's a day where no matter what you put in your belly, it's never enough." -The Hunger Games, Page 238.

Wow. To sum it all up in a quote from one of my favourite books. Good on me.

Three days of simple 50gram snacks of low-fat, low-calories, low-fun protein has been a tad of a challenge. Nothing I couldn't handle, but I have felt stomach-empty. That's what I didn't like. On this Body Trim weight-loss program, it says that you have to have one of these lovely snacks every 2-3 hours, but if you really need it, wait at least one hour between snacks. There is a very logical reason to this insanity, and that is so that your body will cleanse itself from all of the crap, and that it begins to reset your fat-burning metabolism. I have done it, and I have done it well, despite being sort of hungry, sort of all the time.

But this whole weight-loss thing isn't meant to be easy. I'd be lying to myself if I say that I can get through it unscathed. Because it is not just a physical-equasions-counting-calories deal, it's a war between mind and gut, and right now, as I am writing this, all I really want is a cheeseburger from McDonalds. But I won't. Because it is a choice that I have to make for my own good.

Enough of that kind of talk.

I want to say to you that I have the biggest thighs in New Zealand.

Perhaps that is an exaggeration, but I feel as that they are certainly in the top rankings. I wouldn't be so pessimistic about this one little thing, or two big things, rather, if the rest of my family hadn't been blessed with the slimmist legs that can compete with those girls on the cover of magazines. I don't know how I inherited these thunder thighs, because my father was all skin and bones, and my mother, although prieviously bigger than me, carried her weight around her middle.

But, just to let you know that I will fight for my rightful inheritance. I should, without a doubt, have those skinny legs. And I will fight to get them. By Christmas, of course. When else?

That is all. Weigh in Monday, everyone! Come and read what I am incredibly embarrassed to tell. But it is all for the journey. Even this.

The Launch.

Ready your engines, people. Because this rocket is taking off.

Hello. Welcome back. 

Had a great first day today. And let me tell you why.

I finished my first of three protein-only days, where only small servings of trim meat are allowed every 2-3 hours. Sure, no problem. I also extreme-cleaned my bedroom, which meant that every empty packet of food was thrown out, and  every piece of clothing that was even the slightest bit too big went to the donation box at Westgate. That means there is absolutely no way I can turn this around. Its a definite. I took my dog for a forty minute walk-run in the rain, then went on the ol' Ab-King pro, which made my stomach not feel so wobbly. I guzzled down my three litres of water, and that made my bladder return to its usual weak self. 

I want this. I want it, I want it, I want it. 

I realized this afternoon what kind of promise I had made to both the internet and myself. It's not as if i didn't intend to keep it. I certainly do want to see this through in all of its glory. But I realize now the gravity of the situation I have thrown myself into. This is now a publicized battle, for anyone and his domesticated animal to have a look-see. It is a very different circumstance to earlier in the year where my struggle was very much secretive, a war between my stomach and mind. I didn't bring it up to anyone, and would brush off compliments as soon as they were said. It's not that I didn't enjoy them, because I certainly did. It was more the fact that I felt it a very private matter, where it was strange to have someone else on my side.

But now, I have people to fall back on. I have people reading this now, because I asked nice enough. They are beautiful, wondrous people. And I give every thanks I can for their support.

On Monday morning, I will do a weigh-in, and give you some results. From there, it will be official weekly updates about my progress, but other musings will be done more infrequently.

Wish me luck.

Day 0. Welcome Aboard.

Hello adoring fans, people that know me, or people that have somehow (but miraculously) stumbled across my little part of the internet. Welcome. Come and have a cup of tea. I don't drink tea myself, but you can certainly have one.

This is going to be the last day of eating like a starved person that has just met a buffet. This is the last day of being an idiot when it comes to food. This is the last day of pretending I am already finished with this whole 'weight loss' issue. Because the truth is? I have only just made a small step regarding my health, and it seems, over the last few months, I have taken an entire leap backwards, with only myself to blame.

So. Here are the facts.

My name is Trinette Wastney. I am nineteen years old. I live at home. I am currently single. I have a job. I have people who love me. And I have people who have previously looked up to me with this whole weight-loss thing, and the last thing I want to do is to pile it all back on.

I started losing weight so that I would feel as if I was good enough for this one, particular boy. With my weight at a disgusting NINETY FOUR KILOGRAM, I had the New Years Resolution to kill off all my fat cells, and to finally feel worthy. In the first few months, I went from a size 20 to a size 14. Which, is pretty good, if I do say so myself.

But I have fallen into a lapse. And it's a lapse that I want to break free from.

So, I will share with you my journey in finishing the race. I will share everything with you, and not leave out any disgusting, horrible, embarrassing fact. I have made excuse after excuse, from needing to start a diet on a Monday, and Jury Duty making it difficult to eat small portions at the correct time.

But no more excuses. I want to be in a bikini by Christmas.

So, this is my 16th of September resolution: To go hard, and by Christmas, know that I put in every effort I could muster, In order to change my life.