So its 1:16am. In 8 hours I'm going to walk into a Weight Watchers meeting.
In 46 years, the only weightloss success I've ever had was on WW. 10 years ago I was 303# and was looking down the barrell of a family trip. I was scared to death the seatbelt wouldn't fasten and, in front of my ex and our young daughter, I'd be outed as a fat person and kicked off the plane. Terror, and replacing my horrible Coca Cola habbit with a Diet Pepsi one, helped me lose 40# That seatbelt closed with two inches to spare.
Fast forward 10 years, nearly 100#, 1 knee replacement, and I'm feeling old, decrepit and desperate. I've spent a wonderful 5 years with someone I would very much like to spend the next 50+ years with. 50 years of loving and living. Travel, activity, not being old and broken down.
So in the morning I begin the journey to the rest of my life. I'm scared to death, but if I don't succeed death is what will surely find me.
Onward muthafuckas.