I was starting to like the mirror again until I realized the horrific truth.
I'm getting ready for a lot of travel starting very soon and ending pretty much at the end of August. So I've been in trying on clothes including bathing suits and coverups. I want to scream.
Sure, one can say 70 pounds in 8 months is good. But I guess I was hoping for more.
Or maybe I was hoping that the weight would come off prettier...you know, less sagging, more of it coming off my midriff than is actually happening, less pancake flattening of the bosom, etc. *sigh*
I'm really sad and angry tonight. Sad that I didn't get to this point decades ago. Sad that I couldn't get it friggen together until now. Sad that I wasted my youth being so freaking isolated, depressed and hopeless. Sad that now that I actually WANT to look pretty, it feels like it's too freaking late. I know, shaddup Carly. I'm just saying, that's how I feel right now. And angry because so many EXTERNAL factors contributed to the problem in the first place...from being molested as a child to the garbage food our government allows in the food supply chain, to the fact that crap food is cheap and healthy food is so expensive, etc. I'm just plain crabby.
(No doubt trying on clothes nekkid kind of set the tone here.)
I've worked SO hard and feel like it's not working.
On the UP side, however, I tried on my 11 year old's Ravens Jersey (size XL, just regular old XL) and it fit! As did an XL t-shirt. Not 5XL, or 4XL, or 3XL, or 2XL, or 1XL...a regular flipping extra large. So I ran to the dresser and found a work shirt they gave me some time ago...and it fit, too! So that made me feel good. For about a nanosecond.
Well, it can't all be roses and joy joy and love love and sweetness, can it? No, I didn't think so. Tra la la.