January 2, 2012
I flirted with the boundary between chubby and fat for a long time, but it's safe to say now that I've landed squarely in the latter category. It's really hard to describe just how terrible that feels. It's a new year, though, and its going to be a memorable one. Four of my close friends will be getting married this year, and me too if I ever get my act together. As we turn the corner from maids to matrons, I feel like this is my last chance to take a stand and really lose the weight...and there is a lot to lose.
This battle is going to be a tough one, and I've decided to chronicle the battle for my own happiness here. Part of me thinks that maybe one day this diary of sorts could help someone else in their struggle. The real driver, though, is that I'm a prideful woman and I'm hoping that having to admit screw-ups in a formal, published form will make them more rare.
My vehicle of choice? Weight Watchers. It was recommended by several trusted sources, but I really signed up because of that commercial with skinny Jennifer Hudson singing next to her fat formal self. She really does look like a whole new person. I want that.
So here we go. Today I weigh 224 pounds. I cannot wear skirts because my thighs have become too large and rub together. My incredible, loving boyfriend is supportive of me no matter what, but surely must remember what I looked like when he first fell in love with me (circa 175 lbs). I wake up every morning and my first thought is of self-disgust with how far I've let myself go. Then I get up and eat those feelings. THIS ALL ENDS TODAY.
There is a wonderful, confident woman hidden under all of this fat, and its time that the people I love got to see her.
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