my goal for this week:
don't. fuck. up.
it's only one week. i can make it through and not fuck it up. i can make three batches of cupcakes and not eat them. (there will be some HUGE coke zeros in my future.) i can get through this week. i can say goodbye to my kid brother again, and watch him leave for another 2 months, and not have four beers. and after this week, i can get through one more. beyond that? i dunno.
i'm feeling very trapped in the 170s. (yes, i am back in them, of course.) i want out. i want to be a little smaller, a size or two. if i could wear my 12s i might be able to stop. if i could wear 10s i'd put the brakes on SO FAST. 20 more pounds. have you ever scoffed at somebody who only needed/wanted to lost 20 pounds? "just 20 pounds? HA! if i lost 20 pounds, you wouldn't even be able to tell!" my grandmother says, "i could be anorexic for a year and nobody'd notice!" of course, we would, because every time you talk to her you spend half an hour discussing what she ate since the last time you called and then what you ate, and then what they made on the food network and then what she clipped out of a magazine for you. but still.
20 more pounds. don't fuck up THIS week. don't fuck up TODAY. don't fuck up RIGHT NOW. and then just... keep not fucking up right now.