I can't believe this happened.
I thought I was okay. I knew I was slipping, but I didn't realize that I'd fallen this far.
I weighed myself. I know. Bad move. The battery in my scale has been dead for a long time. I'm totally okay with that. I hate knowing how much I weigh. I went to my mom's house and her scale was sitting in the middle of the kitchen floor (so they could weigh their bags before going on a trip). Tori stepped on and weighed herself. She's almost up to 40 lbs. She bouncing on it and trying to make herself weigh more. Then she said, "Hey mom, remember when you used to stand on the scale?" Yes. I remember all too well. She begged me to step on the scale. I told myself that I would step on the scale, but I wouldn't look. I was doing just fine until Tori said, "Wow, Mom, you made it all the way to 200!"
I quickly looked at the scale. Fortunately, she was way off. I wasn't at 200. But I looked. I saw the number and I wanted to cry. I would rather not post on a public blog how much I weigh, so let's just say that I have never weighed this much (other than when I'm hugely pregnant). It's time to fix that.
Ugh. I hate dieting! I love to cook. I love to eat. I LOVE FOOD! I really don't want to give up nachos, buttered popcorn, cookies, cupcakes, white bread, or any of those really delicious, highly processed snacks from the grocery store. It's a very sad day for me.
But, it needs to be done. I need to lose a full 20 lbs. I'm not going to set a date that I need to have it gone. I'm just going to reward myself when it's done. That will be my motivation. My reward? New jeans. My favorite jeans are dying. They are ripping everywhere (probably because I insist on squeezing my ample bottom into them) and they will not last much longer. I refuse to buy new jeans in my current size. So, when I get back down to my normal size, I will reward myself with new jeans. Not Walmart clearance sale jeans. Good jeans. I'm actually really excited about it. I'm excited enough that I got up this morning and put on my workout clothes to get on the treadmill.
So, I could use some help. First, don't say things like, "you don't need to lose weight, you look fine just the way you are!" That's not helping. That will just weaken my resolve and that's not good for anyone. Second, don't invite me to go running with you. I don't run. I have messed up feet and 3.5 miles is about as far as I can go without serious pain. I have a treadmill and a laptop with Netflix. That's how I like to work out. Third, don't tell me how fat you think you are. Chances are good that I think you look beautiful and I wish I could look like you. Telling me that you're fat makes me feel worse about myself.
So, without any further procrastination, I'm going to go get on the treadmill and watch The Vampire Diaries. Wish me luck, I'm going to need it.