When I got back from Utah, I was 188.4. I'm now 186.2 thanks to a lot of sweetened tea and possibly a bout of diarrhea stemming from salt water taffy and Good'n'Plentys. I am pretty sick of them, too. But at least I've lost weight.
I have been pondering the state of hunger. My body is better at knowing when it needs to eat than my head. I look at the clock and think "Well, it's noon, maybe it's lunch time" and I'm not hungry at all. So instead, I feel like I should actually wait until I'm hungry to eat. And not so hungry that I start to hiccup and feel faint but hungry enough that I'll have appetite for a meal. I think that would really help.
As I remarked in someone else's LiveJournal, I find obesity to be somewhat like an illness. People may believe that they are happy the way they are, but I wonder if they lost some weight, felt their clothes grow loose, found that their skin looks brighter, realized that they have more energy if they would realize that they are perhaps in need of being healthier.
I haven't felt the effects yet of the weight loss but my pants fresh from the wash are not so hard to pull on anymore. That's a step, isn't it?
I want to be healthier. I want to push on longer and harder. I want energy. I want to look good. I don't have to turn anyone's head but my own but that'd be worth it. I'm a beautiful woman. I believe that. And I believe I deserve to be thinner and healthier.