I survived the visit to my parents' house. I knew I would, but I always dread it. The visit was fine, my brother actually showed up and we got along fine. I don't know if he's coming to my house on Saturday or not yet. I need to find out from him. But getting any info out of him is like pulling teeth. *sigh*
I've been having trouble shaking this vacation weight. Vacation pounds are supposed to melt off, right? Sunday I scored a 193 on the scale. I was thrilled by that and it was a huge surprise, too, because I've been mostly a steady 196 since getting home. Today, in fact, I was 195. I know it's foolish, but I'm not going to be happy until I can hit 190 again. It's crazy that I have so much self-worth locked up in seeing a specific number on the scale. I don't like this bit about me and I'm trying to work my way through it. One of the things I've been using as a tool in working through this is this picture (originally posted a couple days ago.)
I have a hard time wrapping my mind around the fact that this is how I look now. I look at the man in that picture and I see someone who is thin. Someone who is of normal size. Someone I wish I looked like. In my head, I still look like this:
It's not right. I don't know why I can't revel in my accomplishment full-time. I don't know why I am continually so hard on myself.
I came up with an idea and I didn't prepare properly to carry out the idea. I wanted Ken to take pictures of me at Disney this year similar to ones in past years. Consider this before and after..
Or even this one from last September and this September:
I really hate the way I'm standing in the 2008 picture. I look retarded. Not severely, but retarded nonetheless. But I'm astounded at how different I look in the two pictures. But that's nearly a 40 pound difference.
Okay, enough whining and pissing and moaning. I'm thin, I look good and I just need to get over that and not care that the scale is telling me something other than what I want to see.