The Obligatory Lame-Ass Introductory Post

Losing weight isn't easy. Well, actually, it is.

There's a simplicity about weight loss that makes it interesting to the planners among us. I've always been more of a "word person" than a "number person," but if you're detail-oriented, it all comes down to one simple idea that works whether or not you got A's in calculus: more calories in than out means weight gain, and more calories out than in means weight loss.

I've been on the heavy side for most of my life. I've never been obese, and as it stands now I'm not technically even over-weight. For a while in college, I was even on the low end of the BMI scale. But I know, deep down and not-so-deep-down, that I'm in terrible shape. I'd much prefer to sit on my couch and watch crappy reality TV, or sit at my computer and argue with idiots in some random forum or another, than get out and take a jog. I'd rather smoke pot than go dancing, or read comics than get involved in any sort of sport. And when it comes to food, let's face it: a slice of cheesecake or a bacon cheeseburger just sounds a whole lot better than a salad, most of the time.

I recently found out that my husband of six months (and partner in crime for eight years) has diabetes. He's a heavy guy and always has been. It's not a great surprise that at 25, his habits are starting to take a toll on him. It has me thinking: I might not be 100 pounds overweight, but what right do I have to tell him he needs to take charge of his health if he wants to live much longer if I'm not willing and ready to do the same?

So, it's time. I need to take a stand for my health and for my life, or there's not going to be much left of it by the time I turn 30.

Here's to the beginning of something great. I hope.