I’ve got some goals up in here, kids.

. . . Was that offensive? That I referred to you guys as “kids?” One time a lady called me “young lady” at a speech meet I judged in college and I swear I got so pissed all of the liquid in my eyes evaporated and turned into steam. So . . . sorry about that.

Anyway, I’m just coming down from a shopping high, and I’m in a pretty good state of mind about these health-related goals I’ve set for myself. So, here they are.

 

Complete the Couch to 5k plan. For realskies. No, seriously, I’m serious.
I’ve started this plan a few times, and the furthest I got was the 5th week in this 8 week program. We were living in Lincoln, and Paul and I were running it together with Charlie in the stroller. After the 5th week, we moved away and never picked it up again. I’ve tried it a few other times and never gotten past a week and a half.
This time, I’ve started it with one of my spunky and beautiful friends. (Yeah, I’m talkin’ about you, lady.) We have officially finished Week 2, and we celebrated this afternoon with iced coffees and a shopping trip. We set out to buy one shirt that we felt good in, and we both met with success. I actually did a little dance in the dressing room when I put it on.

 

Get the ever-living hell out of these maternity clothes.
Full-panel pants when you’re pregnant? A very comfy miracle. Full-panel pants when you’re not pregnant and it’s summer time? About as much fun as wearing full-panel maternity pants in the summertime.

 

Fit into my NaNoWriMo T-Shirt.
So, I’ve got a fairly small frame and I usually order a small T-shirt, despite the size of certain assets that I possess. This time, however, the NaNoWriMo people meant business when they said “small.” There is no way I could fit into that shirt right now, but I earned the damn thing and I SHALL WEAR IT! I SHALL!

 

Please note that I’m not throwing out any goal-weights here. I do have a goal-weight in my mind, but it’s not really a huge priority. I swear you’re not going to find me mumbling to a stalk of celery in the closet and drinking my own tears. I just want to avoid the soul-crushing experience of having to go jeans shopping, which means that I need to fit into my old ones. I want to have more energy, and I don’t want to spend 25 minutes grumbling into my closet every time I want to go out somewhere.