Today’s Friday. Right as I was about to go upstairs and change into my workout clothes, my son’s school called me to tell me that he had a very bad stomach ache and wanted to come home. Now he’s laying on the couch watching some movie on Amazon, curled up under a blanket. I’m still in jeans a t-shirt, haven’t changed, haven’t worked out, forgot to take my supplements this morning, and have a crap ton of stuff to get done before the holiday weekend.
Total weight lost at the end of week 3? 4.5 pounds. Am I disappointed? Slightly. Fuck off scale. But the reality is that I’ve been lifting and lifting, yesterday was my first day of cardio, so I’ve definitely replaced some fat with muscle. The scale may not have moved much, but I can guarantee that if I would’ve had my BMI measured three weeks ago and then today, there would be a bigger gap.
I’ll get it done today at some point.
3 week progress above. In the bottom shot which I took this morning, I’m wearing a bikini that I bought in the fall with the intention of wearing it this spring break. Not only did I not work to lose any weight to wear it, but thankfully we didn’t go anywhere on vacation where I needed it. The fact that I put it on and it looked even remotely okay to wear in public was a victory. The fact that I put on a pair of jeans that I bought three weeks ago that didn’t fit and as I type this, I’m wearing them? A victory. The fact that this has happened in just 3 weeks?