I’m fat, and it sucks.

Photo on 9-17-15 at 3.19 PM

Things that happen when you’re in a happy relationship:

  1. You get comfortable.
  2. You get fat.
  3. You look in the mirror and say out loud, “I’m fat”, and then your boyfriend/girlfriend says, “Baby, you look great”, and then you say, “You’re just saying that because you love me”, and they say, “You’re not fat; I’m fat”, and then you both say, “We’re going on a diet together tomorrow!”
  4. “Tomorrow” happens, and you’re both craving nachos, and you both enable each other to eat nachos because you just want the other person to be happy.
  5. Repeat steps 3 through 4 until you’re both so sick of yourselves that you actually decide to make a change.

Tony and I are fat right now. Sure, we may not be fat by “average American” standards, but we’re certainly not “in shape” either.

Personally, I’ve got that whole “skinny fat” thing going on where although I look nice in clothes, what little muscle I have left from my religious yoga + running + P90x days is covered by a nice, flabby layer of “gross, what is that”. And sure, it’s not like I’m severely overweight, but if I continue along the path I’ve been headed down (“Extra butter on my popcorn to go along with the 7 bags of candy I’m also sneaking in + finishing in the first half of Maze Runner 2, please!”), I’ll reach that 200lb goal in no time.

Relationship 15

The 15 pounds you eventually gain after entering into a happy relationship where the two of you cook for each other, feed each other, and generally treat one another really well.

Sure, the frequent nights out to fancy dinners + home made pot roasts and BBQ pulled pork + dessert with every meal sound (and okay, taste) great, but unless Dad-Body is your cup of tea, that shit is not sustainable.

I feel so gross.

I’m at that point where I can’t stop bitching about how icky I feel. I hear the words coming out of my mouth, and every time it happens, I hate myself a little more. Who seriously wants to look in a mirror every day and say, “Gross, I’m fat”, every time they see themselves? That shit is poisonous.

Is this what it feels like to be full of self-loathing? Because it fucking sucks.


Today, after putting up with my self deprecation, a coworker said to me, “Shut up. I’m 427 percent positive your entire body could fit in my right pant leg comfortably. With wiggle room.”


The fact of the matter is, don’t personally feel confident in myself, and all the outside praise in the world isn’t going to heal the me inside that keeps telling me I’ve let myself go.

Thus …

I’m making a change.

Why is it that every time I want to trim up, the first thing I do is buy shit I don’t actually need? The last time I wanted to drop weight, I went on a shopping trip to Lululemon, picked up some new yoga pants, invested in a new pair of Nike running shoes, and splurged on cool fitness devices.

… And you know what?
It worked.


If buying clothes that make you feel sexy while you work out motivates you to actually exercise, and if investing in fitness devices encourages you to actually monitor what you eat, I say do it. Whatever you need to do to get you off your ass and doing something about your weight instead of bitching all the time like a broken record, I say, do it.


Buy all the things!

Motivational Fitness Crap I Bought Today


First, I bought a Withings WS-50 Smart Body Analyzer in Black. I first spotted the Withings scale in Target’s Open House, an acrylic smart house outfitted with all the latest home technology from smart doorknobs to smart basketballs. Tony and I were killing time before a movie the other day by browsing through all the cool IOT junk at Open House, and the Withings smart scale caught my eye.

Apparently, the Withings scale works in conjunction with all of my favorite health apps (MyFitnessPal, for example) to keep all of my data up to date. With the Withings scale, I can easily track my weight progress via my smartphone since the scale automatically uploads my weight into my apps without me having to lift a finger! And since I’m fat and gross right now, the idea of getting to be that much lazier while managing my weight really appeals to me.


I also bought a Barbie Pink sport band for my 38mm Apple Watch, because the idea of working out in the stainless steel Milanese Loop band my Apple Watch originally came with sounds gross + sticky + clunky. Also, pink is freaking cute. #FirstWorldProblems

The plan is to use my Apple Watch as my regular fitness tracker and heart rate monitor while simultaneously uploading all of the data I’m tracking to my favorite health apps (again, MyFitnessPal). Will my Apple Watch also work with my Withings Scale somehow? I hope so. But who knows, really. This thing has been sitting in a drawer gathering dust for the past few months, and I’m only just now pulling it out with fitness in mind.

… And okay. That’s it.
That’s all I bought.

To be honest, I don’t really need new workout stuff. If anything, I need to reduce the amount of workout crap I have. Tons of Lululemon yoga mats, yoga towels, running clothes, running shoes, cute hoodies and track jackets, dumb bells, yoga pants, running shorts, sports bras, tank tops, sports headphones — I have enough stuff to outfit a small village.

* But uh, cough, if any potential health and fitness sponsors are reading this and want to send me cool gear, ignore the previous paragraph.

I’m starting today!

I wrote this post for a few reasons:

  1. I haven’t written anything non work-related in a while, and I needed to express myself!
  2. I want to hold myself accountable for my decisions, and one of the best ways to do that is by sharing my choices and seeking support or encouragement on a public forum. What better way to do that than on my blog, right?
  3. My persistent self-loathing has begun to affect the way I treat people around me, and this bad attitude is not me. I refuse to turn into that sort of person, and I’m doing something about it right now, starting by acknowledging my flaws.

Poor Tony. It makes me laugh when I imagine him watching me run around like a headless chicken while I gather everything I need to begin my weight loss journey. He’s much more laid back than I am when it comes to stuff like this.

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Of course he likes my no-fuss Ikea scale.

But if that thing’s right, this morning, I weighed 104 lbs. ONE HUNDRED FOUR, GUYS. I have literally never weighed a pound over 98 in my life, and here I am now at 104.

KILL ME. I’M IN THE FUCKING TRIPLE DIGITS. I’m so upset, I could eat a whole pizza, and I still wouldn’t feel any better.


… But seriously.
The change is starting today.

Wish me luck.

~ Sherilynn

PS. Watch this cool TED Talk by Talithia Williams on how owning your body’s data can lead to a healthier, better life. Good stuff.

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Outfit Planning: 3-Day Weekend with Tony’s Inner Circle

Normally, I’d assume meeting my new boyfriend’s entire family and all of his closest hometown friends would be absolutely terrifying, but if being with Tony has taught me anything, it’s that no matter who he introduces me to and no matter where we go, I will always feel happy, safe, and loved.

This weekend, we’re venturing out to Tony’s hometown in Reno, Nevada for a 3-day trip (yet another in the books) to meet almost everyone he loves in the world, and I. Am. Pumped.

Here’s what I’ll be wearing, because obviously I have to look good doing it …


For the drive up, I’ll be rocking one of the comfiest maxi-skirts in the world, a chill, ribbed crop top, and some white sneaks. Top it off with some chambray, and you’ve got yourself an easy day-to-night ‘fit for sunny Reno.

In this get-up, I’m grabbing dinner with his family, meeting his cousins, his aunts and uncles, and relaxing at the movies with him later in the evening.

Why a crop top and not some Easter Sunday dress to meet the fam? I’ll tell you why:

  1. Tony’s family (and the way he describes them) sounds awesome, and they aren’t so conservative that an outfit like this would put them off. No joke, the kid is blessed with cool, non-judgemental badasses in his life (just like me), and I’ve never felt more effortlessly welcome with a boyfriend’s loved ones than I have with Tony.
  2. It’s easy to make crop tops look classy if you rock ’em right. In fact, I wear crop tops to swanky work events all the time. Y’know. Cuz I’m a boss.
  3. It’s freaking Reno. Tony puts Reno like this: “Even people who are even slightly dressed up stand out. You can’t find a bar in Reno where people aren’t wearing flip-flops and cargo shorts. Reno is comfy.” Does being comfy mean hanging out in sweatpants every day? If so, I can totally deal with comfy.


Saturday evening is party night. That means lots of walking, lots of hugging crap-tons of new friends, lots of alcohol, lots of bar-hopping, and lots of bouncing back and forth between our hotel room and the strip (does Reno have a “strip”?) to restock on rage-fuel. My kinda’ night, baby.

“What the heck am I supposed to wear for that?” I ask, shoving Tony playfully. “I’ve never been to Reno — I don’t want to be too dressy.”
“Remember what you wore to that rooftop BBQ we went to with your friends?” He asks. “You looked so sexy in that. Wear something relaxed like that.”
“You thought I looked sexy?” I give him an impish smile, squeezing his bicep and waggling my brows at him.
“You look good in everything, babe,” he says, grinning back and kissing me.

This kid.
Always with the smart answers.
I see a lot of surprise-sex in his future.


Why wear two crop tops for the weekend when you can wear three?! … But seriously, I love crop tops. They go with freaking everything, and this daisy-dukes + butt-cheek-loving outfit is perfect for our last day in Reno together.

Sunday in Reno has a forecast of “chill”. Brunch with the homies, a little day-drinking, and a lot of relaxing in the sun. Then, after we’ve sobered up and had our fill of Nevada, we’ll be driving back home to San Francisco for our typical Sunday night in with snacks, HBO, and cuddling.

Doesn’t get much better than that.


This devious little shit is so perfect for me, it’s gross.

Wish me luck.

Gagging on cute-ness,

FestPop Review: Outside Lands 2015


“What are you saying?! Billy Idol could drop dead at any moment; there’s no way we’re missing that show!” My overenthusiastic friend, hopped up on a palm full of Molly and chugging pints of Heineken like his life depends on it, gestures toward the Lands End stage with an aggressive wave, sloshing his beer across the grass.
“Dude, I already said I was down for Idol,” I say, shooing him gently. “Get going already!”
“This is a once in a lifetime opportunity!” He continues, pivoting on his heels to survey his destination. “We’ve gotta’ get there now!” With a pointed nod, he takes off on a march, leading our large group of inebriated friends through Golden Gate Park and towards the Lands End stage.

I like to call the march between stages at Outside Lands the “Mass Exodus”. As each show ends, a huge surge of festival-goers crowd together elbow to elbow and stumble on towards their next favorite performer in the lineup. Billy Idol is Outside Lands 2015’s (OSL 2015) Saturday 5PM favorite, and anyone who appreciates a quality eargasm knows to be there.

“Everyone hold hands!” Our fearless leader calls, and one by one, we link up. We’ve begun a daisy chain, that classic festival move meant to help groups of friends snake easily through crowds without losing one another in the mayhem.
“Here!” One of my girlfriends reaches back towards me, shaking her empty hand insistently.
Smiling and more than a bit tipsy myself, I slip my hand into hers, letting her drag me along. I turn to look behind me and see my boyfriend cheesing, reaching for my hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze.
“The weather is perfect,” he says, pressing in to plant a kiss on my cheek.
“This is amazing,” I agree, squeezing his hand in return.


We fucking.

Want more? Read the full Outside Lands 2015 review on FestPop.

PS. Damn I love festival fashion.