I Got Fat.

I got out of the shower a few days ago, humming Taylor Swift and generally minding my own business, when a monstrous white whale trapped inside my mirror captured my attention.

Okay, so maybe I'm exaggerating just a tiny bit.

In full honesty, I was doing my once over fresh out of the shower and I've definitely "let things go". I will probably piss people off if I say that I'm fat, because I'm still wearing my size 5 jeans I was wearing when I was dancing.

The difference? Oh I could go on for days.

For one, I'm tired all the time. There is no real difference between seven hours of sleep or eleven hours of sleep.

Next, I'm grumpy. Something about never pushing my body to exert itself, reducing the release of endorphins really puts a damper on my overall mood.

The worst part? I have cellulite. Guys. I'm seventeen years old. I HAVE CELLULITE AND IT'S REALLY NOT OKAY ON ANY LEVEL.

The texture of my rear end skin resembling that of a bleached orange peel may or may not have been my breaking point.

My gut reaction was to text Rora. After some discussion, we have come to a conclusion. Between her sister's wedding and my graduation ceremony, neither of us are allowed to get fat. What's more, both of us need to be healthy. Since I'm horrible at finishing projects, I suggested we blog about the process in order to keep us accountable. Rora agreed.

I spent the weekend planning my workout schedule and setting what I hope are reasonable goals. I started my workouts yesterday. I may or may not have finished the workout laying in my bed for a good hour trying not to vomit. I'll be posting weekly(-ish) on my progress.

I still need to do today's workout. I think I'm going to let my dinner settle a bit more first.

Oh, one last thing.

My pathetic excuse for a "before" shot:

Basketball shorts don't show love handles. It's great.