I'm a Terrible Blogger...

I swear I don't mean to ignore my blog. But if I blog I actually have to take ownership of the fact that I'm a bad exerciser and diet follower. I mean seriously bad. I can't motivate myself to go to the gym and "free days" are running rampant. I blame work stress. And the deliciousness of processed foods. And Chocolate. I always blame chocolate. 

Work stress has caused me to be unable to sleep at night, which in turn causes me to only sleep for a few hours during the day, which in turn causes me to be tired and cranky and crave chocolate and processed deliciousness, which in turn makes me not want to go to the gym and to say "Another free day won't kill me". Free days have caused my waist line to NOT get smaller. At least it hasn't gotten bigger again.

So. I need motivation.

Here is a picture of Cartagena, Columbia. One of the places I'll be visiting on our cruise.

I want to be able to walk along that beach with my hubby and not be winded after 5 feet. Walking in sand is hard when you're as heavy as I am because all you do is sink. I practically need snow shoes to be able to accomplish it and who wears snow shoes on a beach in summer? Oh, Nobody. That's right.

Here's Palm Beach in Aruba.

I want to be able to swim on that beach and not be mistaken for a baby killer whale. That is why I do not wear black and white swim suits. It's always been my fear to get eaten by sharks because they thought I was a baby killer whale.

Here is a picture of Doris Mayday, whom I aspire to look like. Except I'd be brunette. I'd look horrible as a blonde.

I want to be able to wear retro style dresses and take pictures in front of awesome classic cars. I want grown men to drool at the sight of me. I want to be a model for the Bettie Page store. I could get down with wearing a girdle. Look at that waist!

Here is a picture of red patent leather high heel shoes.
                                         
                                           

I've always wanted to wear a pair of "stripper heels" as hubby calls them. I call then "F*ck Me" pumps. These of course would be worn with a retro style dress to create the whole "I'm one Hot Mama" persona. Right now I can't even stand in a pair of these. My poor ankles just can't handle the strain. 380 pounds was not meant to rest squarely on tip toes and ankles. It's painful. And dangerous. And Painful...

Here is a picture of a wall.

Well, I don't have a picture of a wall. You can relate back to my first post about what I want to do against a wall... Although, I'm sure you can imagine after my comment about the heels...

So. There's some motivation for me. Tonight I'm going to exercise at home. I have Dance Central 3 so I will play that for 30 min. Dancing is exercise. At least then I'll be earning Xbox Rewards. 

We'll see how that goes...