This belies my name now, does it not? A fat prattler who doesn't prattle is, well, just...fat.
And fat I am. Still. My foray into juicing was, like so many other things in my life, an exercise in excess and enthusiasm which burned out rather quickly. In three weeks I lost 25 pounds. In the two weeks afterward, I gained 12 of them back.
Sigh.
To my credit, I juiced this evening. A lovely kale/apple/lime/kiwi/celery/cucumber/zucchini/ginger juice that made me feel immensely better upon its consumption. The difference really is noticeable.
It's now just over 10 weeks until I leave for India. I'll be at 5000 feet in the foothills of the Himalayas for the better part of a month. The rest of the month I'll be in Delhi, where the average temperature in June is like 164 or something. Just because I want to see India before I die does not mean I'd like to actually die there. I have 10 weeks to whip my ass into reasonable shape.
This ought to be fun.
I wonder how many calories pointed annoyance, crushing fatigue, acute frustration, and raging hormones burn?
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