Stop the pity party!

Yesterday I cried. Not the gut-wrenching, soul-bearing cry that cleanses and leaves you feeling revived; I cried the covert, escaping tears of too-full pots bubbling on too-hot burners...the kind that sneak out before you can secure the top.


Naked, sucking in my stomach to trick the scale into believing I did a moment of exercise yesterday only to see two days' worth of hard work flushed with middle of the night binges. This daily shame a reminder of what I've become: unmotivated, uncaring, unchanged.

So I cried. I cried because I'm forced to see what's always been there, but I didn't want to deal with. I cried because the scale forces to me to see the correlation between my actions and the results. I cried because every time I get dressed it slaps me in the face that no clothes can hide this monster I've become.

Today I decided. Not with the sure-footed, inerrant tread of hinds feet on high places; I decided with the trepidation of a woman who can't bear to fall...I think I can, I think I can, I think I can.

Naked, not bothering to hide my stomach I open one clenched eye to see the result of not caring yesterday. 6 days of hard work completely undone by a two-day pity party, quieting tears with sugar. I got back in the bed wanting to sleep the day away, continue my blow-out gala.

But instead, I decided. I decided to write how I was feeling in my journal. I decided to eat breakfast (though my normal response would be to starve myself all day and then binge in an emotional outpouring). I decided to take my vitamins. I decided to clean the house. Somewhere in all of this deciding, I decided I'm worth fighting for. I'm worth LIVING for!

This is unlike any other attempt at losing weight. I'm actually looking at myself, not just what the scales reflect, but my actions (and my body's reactions), my feelings, my motives. I don't know what's ahead, but I'm choosing to deal with it...one decision at a time.