I'm tired. Freaking tired. I really miss exercising...I think I'll get back on track again tomorrow despite the continued bleeding, which has lightened up a wee bit. I've been oddly hungry the last few days, which seems contradictory to my not exercising. *sigh* Well, maybe it's stress.
I was cleaning out my personal junk drawer the other day in my nightstand. You'll never guess what I found...well, maybe you might if you're a fatty like me...one who keeps obsessive lists on weights and measurements. Every once in a while I'll find an old "list" and marvel over how I have had to work so hard just to lose these 30-40 pounds. So, I found a note where I'd written that on a particular day, I weighed 239 pounds. Wow... I'm sure I was likely even heavier than that at some point, but I'd stopped weighing myself. Can you believe it? 239 pounds?! Even more shocking? At about the same time in history, I found cards from my husband which said how much he loved me. So weird... I can't fathom the idea that someone could love me for reasons besides how I look. I know I'm 38...I'm just NOW getting to the point where I can believe that. All my life I was only appreciated for how I looked. Then I got REALLY fat. And no one appreciated my any more. I was literally invisible. I had to "re-invent" myself. I had to let the "real me" come out. It's been nice. But, man...can you believe that? I was probably around 250 pounds at my heaviest. I'm 5'4." Crazy...
Gak... I just want to crawl into bed with my kidlets and cuddle. Smell their hair, touch their soft skin, and let my body melt into theirs.