So remember that goal to get into the 130s by Vegas?
Yeah, not so much.
Post-downward spiral, I revised said goal to just be, "lose the 7 lbs I gained in my fit of emotional turmoil". And, success. Two days early and with an extra 0.2 lbs to boot. Woot!
The problem is, now my brain is tripped up. Now the voices in my head (HELLO FRIENDS!) are criticizing me, judging me, whispering, "If you had started earlier, you'd look SO much better for this trip. If you worked out harder, you'd be so much more confident. If you'd just resisted that jar of Nutella, you'd be such a skinny bitch."
I've spent the last week trying on dress after dress, just as critical of myself as I would have been 51 lbs ago. I don't hear the opinions of friends who insist I look great in this or that, I only see my still-too-big hips, thunder thighs, or protruding belly.
But I was thinking, that's pretty much everyone, isn't it? At least, us girls. Even the most beautiful women I know see flaws when they look in the mirror. So what is it that I expect? Some magical dose of self-esteem that will make me ready to rock a bikini? I don't think that's gonna happen. At least, not in the next two days.
At least I'm not alone. I share my insecurities with my girlcrush Jennifer Lawrence, and probably all of you.
I did end up finding a dress, tighter than I've ever worn in my life, and a cute one-piece, and I do know I will look pretty damn good in Vegas.
But a few shots of liquid courage won't hurt.