According to a report from Harvard Medical School, “Each time you take a step, you put about one and a half times your weight on your foot. If you run or play tennis, three to four times your weight lands on each foot whenever it hits the ground. Every pound you gain in weight adds to the pounding on your feet.”

From the time I had to walk a mile and a half from one end of Terminal C to the completely opposite end of Terminal A at the Detroit Airport last Thursday, my feet started to hurt. During the evening Bee Squad event, I stood for two hours and then finally had to sit down to get the pressure off my feet. At the People’s Party, I finally took off my high heeled sandals and walked barefoot the rest of the night.

Friday I walked, and walked, and walked. And stood around waiting for elevators. And walked some more. I tried to massage my feet before I went to bed but it still took a while to fall asleep due to shooting pains in the bottoms of both feet.

Saturday morning, I got a reflexology foot massage at the Unilever event. My eyes rolled into the back of my head more than once, and I had to force myself not to moan inappropriately. For about two hours after that massage, my feet didn’t hurt at all. But after more hours of walking and standing, and then dancing at the Sparklecorn party, my feet had finally had enough.

I woke myself up crying in the middle of the night. The bottoms of my feet felt like they were being stabbed with hot needles. Nothing I did helped. I tossed and turned, rubbed my feet against the cool parts of the sheets, and somehow was able to fall back asleep.

Sunday morning I looked at myself in the full-length closet mirror in the room and gave myself a stern lecture. I told myself that this was the last straw. I may not have the highest self-esteem in the world, but dammit, I’m important. I am worthy. I deserve to be able to move around comfortably.

I have issues from my past that I believe have led me to be this overweight. I can’t afford therapy and am not even sure it would help. I know exactly what the issues are, exactly what makes me afraid to be thin. I also believe that I have the power to overcome those fears. Because I HAVE to.

I cannot make it through another BlogHer at this weight. I never want to experience the kind of pain I had this past weekend again, ever. I do not care what it takes. If I can’t make myself enough of a priority to get myself in shape by next year, I am not going to BlogHer. Even if I have a sponsor.

I hope that doesn’t scare off prospective sponsors, but it has to be said. I have to set a goal big enough to really want it. It has to be something that I can circle on the calendar and work towards. And the goal has to be something I want badly enough that failure is not an option.

Regular readers know that I’ve been down this road before. I’ve announced my joining of Weight Watchers, my intention to start exercising, so I know what you’re thinking. But I’ve never dangled this big of a carrot in front of my nose before. The only other time I set a goal to lose weight and was successful was for my wedding. And I went from 160 to 125 in 8 months.

I’m purposely not throwing out numbers or dates right now. I don’t want to set a goal weight number and then fail to meet it. I’m thinking in terms of physical comfort goals:

Being able to go down into my basement, throw in a load of laundry, turn around, and climb back up the stairs without my heart pounding and breaking a sweat

Being able to scrub my kitchen floor without developing an ache in my hips and thighs and breaking a sweat

Being able to be on my feet for several hours, walking and standing, without my feet hurting

In order to accurately recreate the physical requirements of BlogHer, I figure I need to go to the mall wearing a 15 pound backpack and then walk a mile, stand still for 30 minutes, walk another mile, and then stand still again. Oh, and pick up a couple of shopping bags along the way, and gradually fill them so they get heavier, and heavier.

So here’s what I am going to do – I’m going to plan to be at BlogHer next year. I assume it will be held the first weekend of August. If I haven’t lost what I consider to be enough weight by say, May of next year, I won’t buy a plane ticket to San Diego.

I’m thinking now though, that it’s too vague. How much weight is “enough”? What about pants sizes instead? Okay, I’m going to tentatively say that I want to be a size 14 by next May. Minimum. I’m an 18 now.

Obviously that isn’t model-thin, but I think it would be a loss of what, 25 or 30 pounds? That would have to make a significant difference in the way I feel on my feet all day, right?

The category for my weight loss posts will be “Blogging My Butt Off”. So if you want to follow along with my progress, make suggestions, send me encouragement, whatever, look for posts in that category.

May 2011. Size 14. 25 or 30 pounds. Whichever comes first. Or no BlogHer next year. That’s the carrot I’m dangling in front of my nose to get myself motivated.

Because I’m worth it.