I know I haven’t mentioned the whole weight loss thing here much recently. Oh please, let’s be honest with one another, shall we? If nothing else, at least we can do that. I haven’t mentioned much of ANYTHING here recently. I’m not complaining. Or making excuses. I’ve just been busy. And happy. And did I mention busy? None of which allows much time for the things that fly through my head at the most inopportune times (should I keep a notepad by the crapper? In the shower? WHY are these the main places that I think of things to talk to you about?) to find their way here to this hallowed pages.

Hallowed? Really? Yes really. I was immersed in some Gilmore Girls reruns yesterday while it rained and somehow my mind is stuck in kind of a private school Ivy League place and instead of deciding what to make for dinner, I spend my evenings wondering if my life would be different had I actually used my 184 IQ for something other than mixing drinks, writing papers for other people for cash and learning the ins and outs of the economics of selling pot. Somehow I kind of think it wouldn’t and that makes me happy. I like where I ended up and, like Tim Riggins, I have no regrets

(LIE! I SO should have spent that year I was unemployed in Augusta making a habit of going to the gym instead of eating shells and cheese and running up credit card debt. Also? That one boy that time in college. Oh. And the one in high school. Him too. MISTAKES.) (And that haircut. The short one. No, not the CUTE short one, the REALLY short one. And perhaps that phase where I wore long blazers and leggings and boots. Maybe… that actually may have been kind of cute and quirky. And maybe quitting the cross country team but I tend to lump that one in with one of those boys.)

Where was I? Ah. Yes. That whole don’t be such a fat ass thing. Usually I tend to not talk about something because it has been neglected. For details, please refer yourself to many prior posts about things we don’t discuss. But that’s actually not the case this time. It’s going well. REALLY well, in fact. I’m not going to tell you it’s easy because it really isn’t. Not exactly. But it is… easier? Regardless, whatever it is, it’s working. I’ve lost almost 70 pounds. And that’s kind of a big deal.

But I find myself noticing little things that are different. Ways that my life is different. Or, more like it used to be…? It’s not necessarily the numbers on the scale that I notice first although don’t get me wrong, I’m on that scale at least once a day if not more. It’s not quite the frightening piece of glass and metal that it used to be. But that’s not the big thing. The big thing is that my outlook is different. My attitude has changed. I don’t mind being the person that gets up to do something. That weeds the garden. That walks the dogs. That goes to the store. That has to run through the airport because we forgot to confirm that the plane was at the same gate that was printed on the ticket and oh look! It’s not! I don’t make excuses to not get up and do something. I just… get up and do it.

I am sleeping better. I am three sizes smaller and FOUR bra sizes smaller than I was 6 months ago. My rings are all too loose. My shoes (OH GOD… MY SHOES) are a little too big. (Anyone out there wear a size 10 shoe…40 in European sizes? Let’s talk… my babies are going to need a good home if there are ones that won’t fit again once I stock up loads of insoles) Chairs feel larger, airplane seats are more comfortable, I’ve had to change the position of the seat in my car, my couch feels larger, my shower bigger, everything, except for my ass and my pants, feels bigger. And don’t get me wrong, those things are all nice and they are tangible and I notice them. They are important. But looking better is, in a way, a side effect. I feel like the changes are from the inside out. It’s a long process. And I’m only halfway there. But the choices are easier to make. I’m not scared of myself anymore. I trust myself to not only KNOW the smart thing, but to actually DO the smart things.

I don’t deprive myself. If I want something, I have it. There is chocolate in my house. There is ice cream. There is wine… OH IS THERE WINE. But it no longer has the power over me that it did. I don’t feel hopeless. I don’t feel like I’ve ruined myself and my body and that I’ve done so much damage that it can’t be reversed. I don’t look at myself in the mirror and tell myself that it is too late for me. I no longer see my outward appearance as just another symbol of my inner weakness and failure and inadequacies. I am strong. I am happy. I am becoming healthier every day. I am proud of myself and I’ve worked hard.

And I’m doing this FOR ME. I am allowing myself to be selfish and put me first. Yes, this will help me be a good mother and a good wife. A better sister and daughter and friend. But above all that is that it will make me be a better ME. I’m finally becoming present in my own life again. I’m showing up. I’m determining what is next and I’ve finally learned that it isn’t too late to choose my own adventure. This summer, I will learn to wakeboard. I will get a tattoo. I’ve had purple hair. I’ve pierced my nose. I’ve stopped being afraid of being seen at the fat girl, even if I still look a little like her. I know that inside, I’m not her. And I’m just getting the outside to match that.

It’s hard work and it’s a long process. But I’m doing it. Every day. And that’s all that matters.