This morning, the scale read 168.4 lbs. For your reference, that's about 25 pounds since the summer, and oh say, 10 or so in the last two weeks.
I'm not going to complain, or cry, or shake my fists at the sky screaming "WHY GOD WHY?!?!?!" I know why. And I know what I have to do. I just have to do it.
But you know what else I need to do?
Get a little perspective.
When I was this weight back in, oh, March of last year, I was thrilled. I felt amazing and accomplished and beautiful and bodacious. I felt centered and calm, in control, like nothing could stop me. Except, apparently, myself. But now that I'm back here again, I just feel like a big ugly fail.
And I shouldn't.
Perspective: I'm still about 30 pounds lighter than this day last year. And that's something to be proud of. I've learned a lot, and I know what I'm capable of, and I know what I want.
And fuck the scale. I'm hot no matter what.