disappointed

a of all: 173.4

b of all: i went to my doctor-- who specializes in pretty-making medicine like laser hair remover, skin resurfacing and weight loss-- prepared to accept her endless offers of appetite suppressants.

she didn't offer.

i asked.

she declined. and i quote, "those last ten pounds are always the hardest. believe me."

ten? TEN? try forty on for size, bitch.

at home i cried. basically all night. i had a beer and a cigarette. and i cried. the mister asked me what the minimum was-- how little weight loss i could have and finally say "enough". 15 pounds, i think. 160 would put me solidly in a 12 and force me to try on every top i buy to find out if i need a medium or a large. 12 is the size i've always been-- i'll still be fat, but not FAT.

i had fantasized about getting "101" tattooed on my hip, small and placed carefully so that it would not be visible if i wore anything remotely modest. somehow, "76" doesn't have quite the same ring.

i'm tired of this. it's my third anniversary today. i started planning my great weight loss when i got home from my honeymoon. in january, i'll have spent 3 years trying to lose weight.

in january, i will accept my body the way it is. i will buy myself full-price jeans and diamond earrings and love it. i can't do this indefinitely. i won't be my mother.