A journey of a thousand miles beings with a single step...
...and damnit, I'm nervous as hell about that step.
I really don't think I... or anyone else around me, for that matter... realize exactly what I've gotten myself into here.
I've seen the workouts on video clips. Once or twice in person. It's intense. No... intense is too weak a word. It's vomit-inducing. And it's going to be at 6:45am for fucks sake! 5 freaking days per week!!! Somebody tell me honestly... how long before I say "Who needs the $500 back? Who cares if I die at 35 of a heart attack because I weigh too damn much??? FUCK IT ALL AND LET ME SLEEP!"
God I hope that isn't me.
I think the nutrition part is what scares me the most.
It's no secret that I like food. Not just like. I have a freakin love affair with food. Give me some cheese and chocolate and red meat on a desert island and come back in 5 years and I'll still be a happy girl.
I can't eat cheese or chocolate or red meat on this thing.
But the results... oh damn the results.
I don't want my stupid CPAP anymore. I don't want my feet and my back and my legs to hurt after a day at work. I don't want to get winded walking up stairs. I want to fit into clothes that cost a fortune because they are from a designer, not because they are specially made for fat people. I don't want to die at 35 of a heart attack or stroke or cancer or something equally as bad. I WANT TO BE A MOMMY.
6:45am vomit-inducing workouts it is.
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