Howdy again, friends, family, fiends, foes, and especially all you funky folk!
Welcome back to Week 5 of my series, “Damn, I’m Fat Again.” Yep, we’re five weeks deep into this nasty, wild ride of my self-awareness, accountability, and a few dumb chuckles along the way. If you’ve been following from the start, God bless you — you’re sticking around for my gripes, grinding, and those glimmers of hope that peek through like old Sol on an overcast day. If you’re new here, buckle up, because it’s going to be a wobbly, cream filled donut infused journey into my abyss.
The Week 5 Rundown: The Very Slippery Slope
Let’s cut to the chase: This week wasn’t perfect. My fridge played host to some unwelcome guests — leftover pizza, a tub of devilishly tempting ice cream, and a bowl of something that can only be described as “temptation from hell.” Yeah, yeah, yeah, I hear you. “Dean, isn’t this series supposed to be about progress?” It sure is supposed to be. But sometimes, progress looks like admitting to yourself that the battle is resisting the wailing call of peach and vanilla ice cream.
Monday was going to be the day — the fabled “Rock On” day when your motivation is at its peak. I had my day ready to go, planned, working in a few hundred extra steps at lunch, walking the “lot” more, getting to know my inventory better, and at 5…
