Dear Future Self:
Today I signed up for a weight-loss program. It’s been a while coming. Kept stepping on that scale, hoping that just seeing the numbers would scare me away from food. But really, I was thinking I wasn’t that bad. And I was right. I wasn’t eating foods that were “that bad,” just eating way more of all those “not bad” foods than I needed. So the numbers kept rising. Not any huge amounts, but enough to nag at me.
I also kept thinking that “running” (really, a sedate jog) once or twice a week was going to solve all my problems.
Here’s the thing, though: I love food. You probably still do, off in the future. I also love looking in the mirror and thinking, “darn I look good.” And that hasn’t really happened in a while.
So last night I got on the scale and saw a number that I’ve never seen before and freaked out a little. Because I have let my love for food turn into a love of eating. The taco baby is proof of that, even without the scary scale number.
When I’d calmed down, I talked it over with Hubs, then went and did something about it. I would say “did something about it AGAIN,” in a sarcastic tone, but success is continuing to re-start after you stall out, isn’t it?
As you read this, your past self is signing off and going for a walk. It’s going to be a long hard road, but I am really looking forward to meeting you (future self) in person. And looking long and hard and saying, “darn you look good.”