It's Tuesday, weigh-in day.
I was not optimistic.
I was afraid.
If that scale doesn't show me positive news, I don't know how I will take it. Losing weight is awesome! Not gaining weight is pretty darn good too. Gaining weight makes me feel like a failure.
I don't want to be fat. I want salesclerks to ask me if I need help, instead of ignoring me. I want to grab something off the rack and know that it'll fit me. I want to be glance at by strangers and not worry that they're judging me for ordering a burger instead of a salad. I don't like me at all. But maybe, just maybe, it would be easier if I could feel that people liked me.
Today's weigh-in results:
So, I'm still on track and doing enough. No time to celebrate though. I followed up my weigh-in with an approximately 380 calorie burning lawn-mowing excursion, have almost finished my first liter of water, and am shortly going to hop on the treadmill for an hour long walk on an incline with the TV show Las Vegas to amuse me during that time. It's too easy to slack off after a success. I refuse. The fat chick in me is trying to convince me that I deserve a day off. That I've done so well that I can forget about forcing myself to eat enough calories today. That fat chick... she's a liar. I hate her. I must destroy her.
CURRENT PROGRESS: 9 POUNDS GONE 41 TO GO