A chubster. A fatty. A bargearse. And on one occasion, a Pippapotamus. (Although I had to admire the ingenuity of that one.)
But I have decided, in the interests of public beautification, that a boombah is not something that I have an overwhelming desire to be anymore. And truthfully it's more to do with the underlying health risks and general awkwardness of being a fatbody that make it so undesirable-- your clothes fit awkwardly- if at all; exercise/movement is more difficult and quite grotesque to watch; you stand up to stretch and all your spare change falls from between the folds of your skin. Irritating. Not to mention heart disease, diabetes, stroke, hypertension, cancer, sleep apnoea, high blood pressure... Hmm. Time to get out while the getting's good. Or while I can still walk out and don't have to be wheeled out on a gurney, white sheet or no white sheet.
Here are my statistics.
Build: Odd. Long, long legs, enormous breasts and arse and a torso that is all of 30cms in length.
Starting weight: (I'm just going to use the weight that I was last time I jumped on the scale, which was... Monday. I was 127.4kg. EGADS. I will be attempting a proper weigh tomorrow, for start of Day 1.)
Goal: 85 or so kg. I'm not too fussed on this so far, as I know I can't aim for anything too low because I will look porn-star ridiculous. I can't diet away my boobs. I will also figure out my mini-goals according to my starting weight tomorrow.
I'm going to attempt a second go at the Atkins diet, which the ever-so-wondrous Pam put me onto in the first place. It has worked wonders for her, and she has done so well (and had so much self control! I am envious. My self control is probably off somewhere stuffing itself blind with biscuits.) and I hope, with a bit of prodding, I can do the same. Hence the journal! (Also Pam's idea. What would we do without her?)
And so, to bed, and onwards to DAY ONE! Barm barm baaarrrrr.
That's ominous music, if you didn't catch that.