I never thought 144 would be my fat weight. I felt like I’d never get there in the beginning. And knowing now that it is the weight that makes me feel like a balloon is… Incredible. I still hate the number. It still needs to be lower, but after all this time, and all this struggle with yo-yo-ing ( I will be good to Eli, I don’t care about Eli, I’ll be good to me, to Ana, good good good) It’s slowing creeping downward. And who would have thought living with Phillip is what would make it the easiest, he’s so caught up in his own little world that he doesn’t even notice that I rarely eat. That I check the scale minimum four times per day.
That my weight is going down. Finally. Steadily. I went to Bend, (my favorite city in Oregon. I swear to God I am going to live there after college) to go camping, and after 4 days of junk food and bullshit. My fatass weighs 144. Not the 157 that it used to pop up to. Not even 145, the number that my body just seems to adore. But 144.
And before bend. Just this last Thursday. I saw 139.6 and Wednesday, I was also in the 130s. Fuckin’. Finally. I’m proud of myself. And I know that once this food gets its way out of my system, all be right back there. And easily in the 130s for my eighteenth birthday. Only 30 more pounds to go.
Stay Strong Lovelies. I am.
PS If you have tried to talk to me recently, and I have royally failed at getting back to you, give me a kick in the ass. I have a working phone now and I'll get back to you ASAP!!!