I started dieting (again), yesterday. I think I'm going to keep quiet this time, rather than announcing (again) that I'm interested in losing weight. There's really no good reason for this other than to prevent myself from obsessing over whether other people in the household are scrutinizing me for what I am (or am not) eating.
Back to yesterday... I nervously stepped on the scale in order to gauge my starting point. It was worse than I thought. The numbers staring me in the face certainly weren't a testament to the heaviest I've ever been, but they weren't encouraging either. Regardless, I have to start somewhere, right? So, that's where I'm at. Or, was.
Yesterday morning the scale said 216. This morning, I was already down by 6 pounds to 210. Now, I'm not so obtuse to believe that I've already gotten rid of enough fat to (roughly) equal a sack of flour. But, it was gratifying to see that after only 24 hours, the scale is at least moving in the right direction.
That said, I know I've still got quite a ways to go. My ultimate goal is 148. But short-term goal right now is simply 200.
I'm tired of telling myself that I'll start dieting/losing weight next (fill in the blank). I'm tired of constantly beating myself up and hating myself over the way my body looks. I'm tired of not feeling comfortable in my own skin. I'm tired of feeling ugly. I'm tired feeling self-conscious at just the thought of being intimate. I'm tired of just generally not feeling good.
I'm ready for a change. And I feel like a change is coming.
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