I decided last Sunday I'd make my triumphant return this Sunday, when I knew I'd be at the 100 lb. mark. Well it's Thursday night, sleeping has become a real issue, and 98 lbs will have to do. A hundred pounds and drastic physical change has come fast. Roughly 100 lbs in 3.5 months. What hasn't changed are the voices in my head. You're fat. You'll always be fat. If you east crap, you'll get fat again. Let me back up for a minute. Throughout the last three months I've opened this blog numerous times. Every time I opened it I thought I'd write. And then I read what I wrote previously and cried like a fucking baby. Wept would be a better word. I fancy myself a funny guy, but there's nothing funny about reading what was essentially your self written obituary. So I attempted to continue these posts, but the tears, self pity and loathing got in the way.
These feelings seem to be changing. As anyone can see by the pictures, physically I have shrunk. My waist is down 4 sizes; shirt size is between an XLT and a 2XL. My legs are as thin as they have ever been. I put on a sweatshirt three Saturdays ago that I hadn't worn in over ten years. And it is now too big. Goodwill will think they won the fucking lottery when they see a bag of brand new 4XL dress clothes show up on their door. So long as they can find a mountain of a man to sell them too.
It is gratifying to put on new clothes and actually look nice in them. I'm not looking forward to a whole new wardrobe, but I'm guessing my fiancée is. Not sure she likes my ratty ass 4XL tshirts that now look like I'm wearing a tent. When I look in the mirror, I like what I see, but I hate what I let myself become. The physical part has not been easy (eventually I'll back up and speak to that) but the emotional part is still the mother fucker. I think it always will be. I'll always look in the mirror and see a fat guy.
