Day Twenty

I was very "warrior-esque" today. Determined to avoid crap, I ate a
lot of fruit and low calorie stuff. There was a part of me that wanted
to go to Wendy's for a coffee milkshake but I resisted. I actually
stood in the doorway of a pizzaria and walked away. I thought of
buying a little bag of Nilla Wafers at the deli and drove by. Half of
this was want-power and half was fueled by an outside source.

Yesterday I went to get my hair done and found this fabulous new hair
dresser. I love her. It's a total score in the hair department!
However, everyone, especially my fabulous new miracle worker, there
made me feel super frumpy. There was a girl leaving for maternity
leave that day who was slightly bigger than me! Notice: PREGNANT
GIRL. It was very discerning.

Mind you these are all the rare form of the skinny girl breed. They
were nice and they didn't make me feel frumpy, which was lovely. But
sitting in that chair in front of this tall, size 0 woman in a dress I
can only dream of wearing, I saw my reflection as Jabba the Hut. Bad
bad bad.

I also haven't weighed or measured myself in weeks. It's time. I have
some fear. I feel that my body is different; a bit less flab and a bit
more firm. But that scale is so evil. It doesn't matter what I feel
like if that number isn't friendly. I'll have to do it tonight or
tomorrow and I'll report back.

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Day Eighteen

I've woken up feeling as though my gut is slightly renewed. I had a
bite of my favorite sandwich yesterday and was semi-repulsed. I felt
like the fat was lodged in my throat and I immediately put it down and
was finished with it. I don't know why or what was behind it, but I
was not pleased. What did make me happy was that the sandwich isn't
the most healthy thing in the world so my body was doing me a favor.

Okay, I'll tell you what it is. Cut up hot chicken cutlet, lettuce,
little bit of cheese and ranch dressing in a wrap. It usually takes
two sittings to eat the damn thing. Otherwise I feel digusting and
stuffed.

This morning, I feel like my stomach is very choosy. Many of the
normal "yummy" things don't sound so wonderful. I can't believe I'm
going to say it but I'm rather pleased that my body is finally taking
a stand and demanding higher quality food!

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Too Tired For Salad?

The key word is FOR....not OF. I never get tired of salad. But I had
a situation yesterday that scared me a bit. I scared myself actually.

I was exhausted yesterday (again) after running around like a chicken
with my head chopped off. I hate to complain as it's my own business
and more running means more money. But after many consecutive days of
non-stop work, I was pooped.

Around 9pm, Justin asks me what I'd like for dinner. It's bad enough
I'm eating at 9pm but now I've got to utilize my three remaining brain
cells to decide what to have for dinner. So, my first thought is, 'i'm
too tired for salad". I knew he was going to suggest it...And he did.
Without thinking about how rediculous it will sound, I said it. "No.
Absolutely not. I'm too exhausted to eat a salad."

"What?! Explain this."

"I can't imagine all of that stabbing with a fork. And then there is
figuring out the lettuce-to-topping ratio with each bite. It's too
much!"

That had to be the most UN-warriorish thing I've thought and said
in....well, FOREVER! I'm ashamed. I actually got some very non-
greasy chicken fingers and all of that dipping was even pooping me out.

Today I woke up feeling guilty over my lack of gumption. I let
sleepiness dictate what I was going to eat. So when I looked on the
mirror this morning and felt bloated and round, I had no one to blame
but myself.

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DAY TEN - Tired of the Fight

It seems funny to say that I'm tired of the fight and see the words
"day ten" next to it. Its day ten here but it's more like YEAR TEN x
2! Twenty years of fighting fat and food. That's freakin' scary!
There were many wars over serious issues with mass deaths that didn't
last that long. Actually some of them occurred in these past 20 years
that I've had my own little internal battle.

So why haven't I given up yet? As tired as I am of this War Against
Weight, something inside of me won't give up. I've wanted to, and at
times I thought I did give up (hello to ice cream, pancakes and
regaining the fat I thought I removed forever), but inside of me is
this woman who refuses to say "uncle". This crazy warrior!

The warrior has a great body and feels healthy. She looks wonderful in
all of those cute clothes that I see and wish I could wear. She wears
a bathingsuit and thinks about things other than 'how well did I hide
my cellulite?'. She's free.... In so many ways. And she's not giving
up until she can come out victorious.

But damn! She's tired! I bet she'll be taking a long nap once she
gets here.

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