It all started in an innocent enough way. Dinner with a friend at a lovely little local latin (oooh, alliteration) restaurant, complete with twinkle lights and hippie servers. After much discussion about various topics personal and impersonal, it was time to put down my proposal. We've both been making note of our lack of weight loss and perhaps a pudge here and there (usually while sharing a dessert after dinner), so I thought now was the time to stop taking note and getting rid of the pudge.
My proposal was put out on the table around the time we got our banana ice cream drenched in chocolate ganache and caramel (yum!). There was an agreement...it was time. And, we had a motivation. We're going to be attending the KISS concert on December 1...a good date for the first weight loss goal. I mean, who doesn't want to look hot at a rock concert? Am I right? I am currently picturing myself in a size 8 pair of jeans.
We will be motivating and supportive along the way for one another (I'm sure), but the smack will come. I am certain the trash talk will emerge. And, why? Because there is pride and a prize on the line. The winner will have the loser (for lack of a better term) buy them a shirt or some kind of swag at the concert (hmmm, perhaps we will need a cap on spending....didn't think about that).
The challenge begins tomorrow...and I am determined to win. I want to win. I don't tend to be competitive, but I have my moments. This is something I want -- badly. Plus, I don't tend to enjoy being a failure in front of others, that in itself will be a motivator to me. On top of it, the person I am competing with is more than a friend, this person is a mentor. Who wants to look bad to their mentor? Not me.
I am going to beat this thing. I am going to win! So, send the positive weight loss vibes my way. I need to lose 12 pounds before December 1. KISS t-shirt (in a smaller size) here I come!
**Can you see me sticking my tongue out a la Gene Simmons?**
No Camp Pies for Whiners
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