As Day 2 of my diet began (which I should consider Day 1, due to a significant amount of calories from alcohol last night), I realized what a huge challenge this would be. Sure, people deal with tragedy and illness and all types of other hurdles in their lives. And sure, those are likely far more important and challenging and tedious, and I admire them for their strength and blahblahblah. I fucking love food. A lot. I love to cook, I love trying new foods and experimenting in the kitchen. I could watch cooking shows all day, and read cookbooks and recipe websites like most people read novels. Having a shitty day? Let's snack the pain away! Friends getting together? We should go get sushi and drinks! Bored? Might as well grab that bag of chips so you have something to do while Redditing! Kiddos getting bored? Let's bake some goodies and eat ALL the things! Eating has become less about actual nourishment and more about social interaction or a form of pseudo-therapy.

That changes now...even though I'm not too happy about it.

So I decided to create a blog, not only to bitch incessantly about having to give up my favorite foods, drink less beer, and basically suffer endlessly in the hopes of losing these last 30 pounds, but to also share what works for me. Also, I hope to piss off less Facebook friends by constantly posting emo statuses about how horrible this is. I hate diets and the responsibility that goes along with them. I just lack the self-discipline required to take on something like this with grace and maturity.

I will blog the pain away and hopefully this journey will provide some insight as to what changes need to be made in my life to be a healthier, happier, and most importantly SKINNIER person. And maybe, just maybe, along the way I'll have some insight for readers as well. I'll be the hero that dieters deserve, just not the one they need right now. So I will diet, because I can take it. Because I'm not a hero. I'm an insignificant blogger. A whining dieter. A Fatgirl.