So I had my annual "chick" appointment this morning. (Make sure you get them if you can ladies...VERY important!)
I didn't remember until I was sitting in the waiting room that they were going to weigh me.
I panicked. I have been avoiding the scale like the plague because I can't take it. The numbers just fuel my madness. The number is never good enough, even if it is going down, and it just drives me to food and then depression. So I haven't weighed myself in months and have just been going by clothing size.
Clothes are getting too baggy = Yay!
Clothes are getting tight = Massive Depression
Happily, everything is baggy these days so I'm pleased.
Anywhoooo...I get on the scale and the number, which I can not bring myself to type, is smaller then I'd expected (Yay!) but far too high to be proud of (You fucking fat cow!). I'm feeling bad throughout the exam and near the end my doctor casually looks at my chart and then at me and says the most wonderful sentence I've ever heard...
"You've really lost a lot of weight in the last year."
I wanted to kiss her.
Because you know, I get so obsessed with right now that I forget the ocean for the waves.
She is right. I have lost a respectable amount of weight in the last year even though I am no where near my goal.
And just for today, I have decided to be happy with that.
The scale is moving in the right direction. And that is okay with me. :)
So far today nothing but coffee.