Who Else Wants To Lose Weight And Always Feel Fucking Fantastic?

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Winner

After my back went out on me for a couple of days I had to ask myself a few very serious life questions. What kind of life do I want to live? Do I want to be healthy and happy until I finally pass from this beautiful world?  Am I going to let my eating habits slowly kill me each and every day?

I knew that this time it wasn’t about making some lame ass attempt at dieting. Life was telling me it was now or never. I would either live healthy and happy or die at a younger age.  I had to live a lifestyle and embrace it fully. As a start, I had to finally lose those 20-30 pounds.

Fuck bread. I stopped taking the free bread roll at lunch. My mind kept saying “Look…take it it’s free.”  I chose to ignore my mind. Who is in charge? Me or my yapping mind? I’m in charge! Bread adds plenty of calories. Fuck it.

I kicked French Fries in the balls. At lunch it was tempting to order a side of fries instead of something good for my body.  I stopped cold turkey. Like a smoker after 2 heart attacks finally tossing that crumbled pack of smokes away, I stopped ordering fries. Fries are just artery clogging sticks that shorten my life with each one. They are my bitch now.

I love a couple a squares of dark chocolate a day. I can’t just eliminate sweets out of my life. They will always come knocking at my back door with big puppy dog eyes. I eat a couple of squares a day of 72% dark chocolate. And each square is heaven in my mouth.

I weigh myself every fucking day. I get my ass on that scale every morning and record it on my weightbot app. My goal is toget down to 190. I will do it. I feel good about this. I feel at peace with it. Ok, so I’ll have to take in all my pants around the waist, but I will win.

Am I feeling better now after a month of this? You bet I am. I am more awake. I sleep better. I perform better at work. I breathe better.  I love life more. I’m never going back. I will live out the rest of my days happy and healthy.

I love life way too much.

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