Crash

It was inevitable.

I was flying pretty high.

People were feeding me compliments and I was eating them up.

I was feeding myself, too.

I saw a lot of change this week and I felt great about it.

I was caught up in how far I'd come and I forgot about how far I had to go.

I really forgot.

Every now and then I'd get a little reminder -- a little glimpse in a mirror -- but it was easily dismissed by whatever positivity was going on at the time.

All the exercise -- I think -- was releasing so many endorphins that I was able to dismiss the little glimpses of how very disgusting I still am.

I speak proudly of losing 60 pounds -- but I lose track of the fact that I have a good hundred -- ninety, anyway -- left to lose. I'm not even half way there.

I'm gross.

And worse -- I'm gross and I've been feeling and acting like I'm not.

How repulsive.

This mood will pass. It needs to.

Tom reminded me last night that it's not about the weight. It was never supposed to be about the weight.

I'm healthy -- way, way healthier than I was, anyway.

That should be enough.

That was supposed to be enough.

I'll get over it. I'll be back at the gym tomorrow, hitting it hard.

But maybe I'll have the good sense to go back to dressing like the fat chick that I am instead of the buff chick that I want to be. Maybe life would make more sense if I went back to living like her, too. Eating, drinking, knowing how the fuck to handle myself in social situations...

I feel better now -- there is no doubt. I guess I look better, but I don't look good. I remain an AWFUL lot of pounds away from looking good. An insurmountable amount. An almost unfathomable amount. It has taken me almost a year to lose 60 pounds -- and that was the beginning -- it always comes off more quickly in the beginning. I need to face facts -- I am never going to lose enough weight to look good, or normal. 

Never.

It is an unreasonable goal.

So I've given up my social life and foods and drinks (sigh) that made me happy for the chance to be slightly less disgusting.

AND to feel better physically than I have in years. I can't let this little mood dive obliterate that fact.

Worth it? 

I just don't fucking know right now.

In a few weeks, I'll take the first bike ride of the spring. That should help to clear up my priorities.