For about the last six months I have been telling people that "I'm like totally doing the St. George half Ironman next May." I thought that if I said it to enough humans with memories and judgment skills, I would shame myself into actually making it happen.

Since I got chubbier in 2017 and none of my pants were fitting anymore and I literally popped the button off of nearly every single pair, I knew it would probably be good for me to actually set some kind of goal and work toward something.

I'm not kidding you about the pants. It got so bad that I could no longer fit into a single suit I owned. But I wasn't about to go out and spend eleventy hundred million dollars on a new suit because that felt like giving up and although my metabolism is officially not 21 anymore, I kept convincing myself that I was "like totally doing the St George half Ironman next May" and therefore I would get skinny again.

So, without a suit that could fit my expanding bod, I took to wearing blazers and slacks that I could squeeze myself into whenever I had to go to court.

A couple of months ago I attended a hearing in the federal courthouse with a partner at my firm dressed in such a state.

We had to go through security to get into the building, which meant that I had to remove my belt, which was a problem because--and I know you didn't believe me when I told you this before--I litterally popped the button off of nearly every single pair of pants I own in 2017, including this particular pair.

My trick is to just wear belts and then no one knows that the button is gone.

And so, I waddled through security, holding my pants together so the zipper, which was no longer being stabilized by the button, would not be forced down by my gluttony in front of half a dozen security officers and my boss.

At the hearing the judge set a date for trial in our case and as we left the partner said "you know, you may want to buy a suit or two before we try this thing" to which I blurted out "I KNOW I'LL LOSE THE WEIGHT BY THEN" which made no sense to him because he hadn't read this post yet explaining why I've been dressing like a homeless person for the last twelve months.

The point is, about five weeks ago I finally started training for the half Ironman and the other day I was actually even kind of able to fit into a suit that I own.

So there I was, feeling alllll good about myself, when Matt showed up at my house this morning, whipped up some vinegar drink he read about on the internet when he clicked one of those spam buttons that was all like "LOOSE WAIT WITHOUT EXERSIZE!" because people like Matt are the reason the spammers don't relent.

Then he passed the drink over to me and I was all like "what is this?" and he was all like "it will finally get rid of your belly fat" and I was like "you think I need to get rid of my belly fat" and he was like "yes, everyone is sick of looking at you" and he didn't say that last part BUT THAT'S WHAT I HEARD.

So yeah. Ironman posts to come.

Also, we found my new favorite breakup story ever. So check it out in this week's episode of Strangerville below:

This time in Strangerville, two women tell one story about a most uncomfortable breakup.Story:1. Trunk in Love, by Carson Walter and Lauren MortensenProduction by Eli McCann and Meg Walter

~It Just Gets Stranger