I’m one of you… I swear…

338.2 – 22.4 pounds lost.

Lately I’ve been more ashamed of my weight than I’ve probably ever have been in my entire life.  I guess now that I’ve gotten my eating habits under control.  I realized how much I ate unnecessarily.   I would start my day off with Chick Fil A and end it with Chipotle.  Shoveling unneeded calories down my trap every day.  How was I so disillusioned that I thought that was ok?  Why didn’t anyone who loved me, stop me and say WTF are you doing to yourself.  It’s like they are afraid to hurt my feelings.  Would they rather me end up dead?

I’ve picked up on subtle looks from people when I order something like a salad and hold the croutons and ask for light or fat free dressing.  Or when I’m out with friends at a bar and I order a turkey burger with no bun and hold the fries.  I get looks like, “Really, why even bother?”.  I want to scream out to them and let them know that I’m reconstructing my life.  That really, I’m one of them — I’m a part of the fit club, I just haven’t reaped all of the benefits of it yet.  I feel judged and I feel like I have a big sign on my back that says “Laugh at me, I think I can lose 200 pounds”.

What if I fail at this?  What if I gain everything back like I did last time?  I don’t think I could handle it to be honest.  Maybe that’s how I know that I will be successful this time?  Because I know that failure, this time only, is NOT an option.  If I go back to that place, where I had given up hope, or back to that place where I just figured I was meant to be fat for ever — I don’t think I could live like that anymore.

And so I go on… secretly wishing to be a part of the slim kids club.  Silently pleading to them to admit me early — before my outsides matches my insides.