I'm out of the closet...I mean, pantry!

It's been nearly a week. By all measures, it's been a success. I feel great, I've lost 7 pounds, and I'm still so inspired by the love fest of last weekend that making healthy choices has been an absolute no-brainer. I don't want to get ahead of myself, but I feel like I'm ont to something...something seriously wonderful.

And sad. Wonderful and sad. I can't help but notice, now that I'm out of the pantry and talking to anyone and everyone, talking and listening, and relating to everyone...I can't help but notice how much of this battle is about self esteem. This isn't rocket science. I've known this. I've known this on some level, but I think it took going public to really see what I'm dealing with. I outed myself because I knew that others liked/loved/accepted me more than I liked/loved and accepted myself. Much more. So much more. It was time to see what they see in me. It was time to believe what they believe for me. And as I talk, I hear what I'm saying differently. Is this the key to achieving all that one wants in life? Is it just self love? Have I been reading the wrong books? Have I been battling symptoms? Learning to love oneself is such a corny concept. It sounds ridiculous. And yet I'm smiling. Corny. Ridiculous. Not such bad things.

So, that's what I'm thinking. It's not even a week. I've got work to do. Lots and lots of work to do. But this work is satisfying and I feel better than I've felt in ages.

Woo-hoo!!

Help me kill this elephant!

I did it. I acknowledged the elephant I have been dragging around room to room, year to year, breath to breath. I told my friends I'm fat and I asked them for help. Life, sometimes, calls for special circumstance vulnerability. What in the world did I have to lose...besides weight? Would they suddenly be aware that I'm fat, that I'm a slob, that I'm lazy, that I'm bad and not want to be friends with me? Somewhere deep in there, the same woman who just called herself a fat, lazy, bad slob believed maybe she was a bit more than that.

Enter friends. I put out this plea and look what I got back. Vulnerable, ashamed, scared...and suddenly I'm aloft, pounds lighter already, spirit lighter, heart bigger, faith restored. Inspired. These people like me. Some even love me. All want me to reach my goals. All have pledged to help me get there.

So here we go. See my letter here. See their letters here, too.

Day 2

I entered Day 2 without groceries or much of a plan, but with determination. So far so good. It's the weekend, Tom's home, it's all a bit easier. I didn't make any formal declaration of starting. I just started. I've been thinking of Stacey when I want to reach for something. No longer mindless. Took a bite of buttered toast today and considered it a victory. Mindful. I ate a bite because I wanted to enjoy it, but I didn't need to eat a loaf to make retribution. It's okay.

I've got decisions to make. WW or other program or not? How do I want to utilize this crazy support that has been flooding in? I could use some time alone to sort it out, make a plan, return some emails. And get rid of this cold that's contributing toward making this all so foggy. Pinch me, I'm doing it. Day 2. Bring it on.