A Journey of 1000 Miles Begins with 4211 Steps

It actually begins with 5000 steps minimum, but I’m nothing if not a wild, livin’ on the edge, rule breaker. Ok, that’s not entirely true. Basically, I’m fat, I’m out of shape, and I just can’t fucking walk that damn many steps in one day. I can get close, but as we all know, close only counts in hormones and hand jobs… I mean, heart attacks and hot flashes… Well, whatever.

I’ve been trying for the past couple of weeks to rehabilitate my back muscles. I just can’t let this to happen again, because next time it’s either the hospital or a bedpan, and I don’t want to put myself through either of those. It was so bad this time, I can’t imagine it getting WORSE. I got a pedometer and I started walking in the mornings after I drop Tee off at school in a nearby park. Two of those days, it’s pretty early, around 8 a.m. This is the most pleasant time to walk because other than some old man on a bike, I’m the only person on the trail. It’s also a little on the creepy side. I know they say fat people are harder to kidnap, but I’m sure they can still be mugged or raped. And believe me, if there’s some sick asshat running around in Fairfield looking for a fold to fuck, he’ll find me, because that’s just how my shit rolls.

I have a treadmill, so obvi, I could be using that instead of risking life and limb walking through the park at all hours. I’m saving that for the days when I can’t go out because it’s so cold you have to piss yourself to thaw out your vajayjay. Because of course, I’d pick NOW to really fubar my back, so that I have to go all winter trying to figure out a way to do the exercises that will help it get better, when it’s harder to get outdoors. Never mind the fact that I should have been doing them all along, so as not to be here in the first place, but I’m nothing if not a fucking procrastinator.

I am supposed to try to work my way up to 10,000 steps. That’s per DAY, people, not per week, like one might think. It’s hard. You don’t realize how lazy your ass really is until you have those three little numbers looking you back in the face. (That was some subtle humor right there, because of course I can’t crack even a grand unless I make a point of walking around the park. It only takes me about 10 steps to get to the fridge, and that’s a fact.) I’m trying though. I told myself that if I also manage to lose a shit ton of weight, I’m going to buy myself three things as a reward, not necessarily in this order:

1) New set of bagpipes
2) Full back tattoo
3) Laser eye surgery

MJ asked me if I was also planning to win the lottery between now and then, but I figure, hey, if I lose all the weight, then I can get some getter paying clients and stop having to give $5 blowies on the side of the freeway.