Well, I did it...

I got on the scale today.

Now you know why you felt the earth shake.

After much crying, wailing, and gnashing of teeth, I have pulled up my big(ger) girl panties and have made a decision.

I am tired of being fat.

Four(ish) years ago I lost (get ready for it) SEVENTY-FIVE pounds.  Yes.  I lost the equivalent of a small person.  Since then I have gained all but about about 7 pounds of it back.

I am ashamed to admit that.

I feel disgusting.

I feel like a sausage in my clothes.

I refuse to buy a bigger size pants....again.

I am almost forty and I feel like I have the body of an eighty year old.  My feet hurt, my knees are starting to hurt, and I am all out of breath walking up the FOUR stairs to my house.

Enough

is

ENOUGH.

I'm not going to say that I did it for all the wrong reasons last time, although I do think some of the reasons were wrong.  I have to get this under control, though, or I may not make it to fifty.  Which we are not going to talk about because forty is hard enough for me to deal with.  Which is to say, I am not dealing with it.

Denial, table for one, please.

So.

No more donuts.  No more bagels.  No more cake, brownies, or cupcakes.  And...No.More.Ice.Cream.

gulp

I CAN do this, though.  I know that I can.  I am not setting any outrageous, "I am going to lose fifty pounds by April 1" kind of goals, though, because I know how I can be about what I consider failure.  I do hope to lose at least ten pounds by my birthday and then (hopefully) another ten by the end of the school year.  I remember how good I felt four summers ago when I could wear cute summer clothes and I know how awful I feel right now.  I hate myself and I hate looking in the mirror.  I have never liked getting my picture taken and now it is even worse.  I hide from the camera as much as I can because I am ashamed that I let myself get like this again.

There is a thinner me inside of this person and she is going to escape.  And this time she is going to stay.