I just need to vent for a minute. Please bear with me.
I've never been skinny. I got to my lowest weight during my sophomore year of college...I thought I looked great and I felt great. Looking back, I was probably too small. Me as a size 8(!) just isn't attractive...probably because I have a big head. Anyways, I don't want to be skinny. It's not me. I want to look healthy. I'm being realistic. I want to lose (most of) this tummy that I've accumulated and tone up the rest of my body. I don't think that's too far fetched. I'm not even sure what weight I'd like to see on the scale. I know it's less than where I am now, but there's no concrete number that I think is magical and will cause me to be happy. I'm not like that. I understand that me losing weight is more about being healthy than trying to look like a model.
But dang it! I'm upset! I hadn't weighed in for a while so I thought it would be a good time to do so. I expected to be right around what I weighed last time, give or take a pound or so. But, no! I have gained over SIX stinkin' pounds! That hit me hard! It means that I'm only nine pounds less than I was when I had Melia. I'm mad! I know I'm probably overreacting, but I really didn't think I had done that poorly lately. I got upset with Ronnie about it and he, being a smart man, said nothing. He knew I needed to get my thoughts out there without interruption. I even called my dad to make sure there was nothing wrong with their scales. No such luck.
So where am I now and where am I going? Ronnie talked to me later last night and told me how proud he was of what I had done so far. He gave me encouragement to keep going because I had been trying too hard to just quit. And he reminded me that my hips are starting to hurt less since I've been exercising more. So, as I wrote out my goals for the week last night, I wrote down exercise five days. I can do that. Maybe I won't see the scale move for awhile, but maybe I'll continue to feel better and look more healthy.