I am so bored at the office, I take frequent coffee breaks and nibble on the buffet of indulgences that people bring in to grant them more excuses to leave their desk. I can’t complain about work, I have been doing pretty well and as a reward, I treat myself to some chocolate/chocolate Oreo cookies.

Over the holidays, I managed to get a lot done, so I ate my pounds in progress. Every reward this past year has somehow included food and I have to finally concede that at 37, I have a gut. Guts are ugly. I hate my gut. My gut and my butt — major areas of conflict and competition to see which can become bigger. Sometimes I just wondered how fat I could get without spontaneously exploding. My jeans pockets have started to tear at the seams. They have given a good fight but in the end, they just couldn’t keep it together.

I saw on CNN the other night that New Year’s resolutions only set yourself up for failure. So many experts, so much food, what’s a girl to do? You know what I say? Fuck the experts. That’s right, a New Year’s resolution is in order for my fat ass.

I hereby declare a new, fit resolution and declaration. If I am still a pudge-bucket in 6 months, then I will shame my family, my friends and the whole cyber-nation of moms who still believe there is hope.

Starting January 1, 2007, I am joining Weight Watchers Online and will be reviewing the program and its effectiveness (so far, the best part seems to be when you exercise, they give you food points BACK). I am signing up for an exercise class called “Fit Boot Camp” and this ass is grass.

Mark your calendars, I am going to post a picture of my fat ass next week, so stay tuned for that. In fact, I’m going to post pictures regularly (hopefully every week) along with my progress.

Next week starts the detox program. Who’s with me? C’mon, size 14 is the average size for women in this country, somebody out there has to be as fat as I am!

Whether I have fellow participants or not, I’m going to post an update and weight loss journal every Monday and my hope would be that sisters out there will share their stories too. We’re in this together, so put that pizza down and stop eating your kids teddy grahams — 2007 is our year. Let’s get our MILFness on!

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