I figured that I'd see some kind of change in myself. It's there. Here is the proof:
- I'm wearing a loose size 14 jean instead of barely squeezing myself into a size 18.
- I noticed yesterday that I no longer need to move the dining table's chair in order to squeeze past the dishwasher when it is open.
- Although still at 30 lbs lost, the weight has moved and now I'm .1 lb away from calling it 31.
- I've run 6 miles for time since Monday where I sprinted most of them. I rock a 9 minute mile. I think I could barely walk a 20 minute mile when I first started this all. It's gotten easy enough that I can read while leisure running/jogging and enjoyed the last half of the third Stephanie Plum novel that I'm rereading.
- My tummy is smaller. When sitting on the couch, nothing is roll-ish when I look down.
- My fat upper arms, while still fat (thanks for the genetics mom!), are not nearly as water-wing-like as they were previously.
- When I contract my calf muscles, I have a very obvious cut in. I'm pretty fascinated by it.
So even with this list of proof, and others that won't occur to me until after I click the "post" button, I don't SEE it. I can see bits and pieces but when looking at the big picture it's not there at all. The stupid fat chick that is apparently still securely in residence in my psyche continues to be a major witch and is messing with me. I try to tell myself positive things. I try to look on the bright side. I tell the fat chick in my head to shut up and that she's being ridiculous. But this is still what I see when I look in a full mirror:
- Look at that gut. I could never be on the show Biggest Loser because no way in hell would I be able to stand up in front of people in just a sports bra and shorts. And forget about the tv audience. No way.
- Seriously, a double chin. It's not a full one but that's definitely face fat.
- Speaking of face fat, aren't their supposed to be cheekbones? Oh, they're under that chub.
- Thank God it's not tank top weather, those arms almost flap like wings. I suppose flying would be good cardio though.
- I can't even bear to look at my thighs or butt.
Am I just incapable of being satisfied and happy? I want to be. SO badly. I don't understand why it's such a hard inner struggle. My goals aren't anything ridiculous. At least I don't think so.
- To be healthy enough to be an active, positive role model for children some day.
- To be able to take on challenges like a marathon and know that I've worked hard enough to earn my spot in the ranks of other competitors.
- To never again have a doctor use the word "obese" when talking about my weight.
- To be able to shop in all the stores with cute clothes and not worry about whether they've already sold the one fat size they usually have in stock.
- To lower the possibility of diabetes, heart disease, some cancers, and a bunch of other icky things.
- To be able to look in the mirror and think "I look cute today."