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I used to workout at least six days a week, walk for miles just for the fuck of it and eat salads for lunch with a big stupid smile on my face. I avoided dairy as much as possible and didn't care much for chocolate. Then I got married and had a kid, moved to L.A. and quit the gym because it wasn't worth the 10 minute drive.

Is it any surprise that I pat myself on my not so toned back when the scale (a brutally honest digital Tanita) reads 135? Or even 135.9? So what's my problem? The first one I can't do much about is age. I'm not 26 anymore when I was at my fitness peak and I'm not as rigid as I once was when it comes to food and exercise. So rigid that when we were in Germany and I was a few months pregnant I almost turned down a bowl of soup because I suspected it had heavy cream in it and my father-in-law looked at me like I was crazy. Which I sort of was and still am.

I like starting things on Mondays and decided today I'd formally formalize what I've been doing, plus blog about it, so I'd be accountable. Today I swore off my morning chai and instead "enjoyed" a bowl of oatmeal, worked out before noon (35 minutes on my spin bike), had an Eating Right frozen meal for lunch (four Weight Watcher's points, whatever that means) and didn't grab a banana walnut muffin at the supermarket like I would have last week to go along with my grande soy iced chai (not a venti like I have been ordering). And tonight we're having a nice big salad with chicken for dinner and maybe I'll have a Tootsie Roll for dessert because, you know, sometimes you just need a little something to make life worth living.

So today I've eaten fairly healthy, worked out and it didn't suck so bad.

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