30 Days Till Vegas

Every year since I turned 21, my best girl friends and I have journeyed to Las Vegas for a weekend of grand debauchery.

And every year, I've been big.

Now, that doesn't mean I didn't get attention. Nay, I found that in such a huge pool of horny desperate dudes, the ones who are attracted to the larger ladies definitely sought me out. But still, even with guys coming up to dance with me, I still felt painfully self-conscious standing next to all my stunningly gorgeous friends. I'd feel awkward at the pool, covered up in my one piece with size twos shaking their asses in my face. I'd feel embarrassed, like I didn't have the right to be out, having fun, when I looked the way I did.

Just this weekend, I thought to myself how nice it would feel to be in the 130s for Vegas this year. That decade is my holy grail---anything under 150 is foreign to me, but the 130s to me mean THIN. They mean SUCCESS. I got down to 133 before my freshman year of college, and have never been lighter than that, except maybe middle school. But I'm a realistic girl, and that meant losing about 9 pounds in a month, and I try to never set myself up for failure. So I stuck with my goal of 145 for the trip, which was entirely doable.

And then.

This morning, I had my weigh-in. I lost 3.8 pounds, putting me officially at a 50+ pound loss, making my BMI no longer overweight, making me 144. Making the 130s a mere 5 pounds away.

That is definitely possible.

We leave in exactly 30 days. I am going to kick my ass into high gear. Hot yoga for health, running for my legs, and weights for my arms. I'm going to cook. I'm going to stop eating Cheetos.

And maybe, just maybe, I'll rock a bikini this year.