I kind of, usually spend all my time thinking about how freaking awesome life could be if I just lost weight.
But I lost weight.
I lost 30 pounds.
And I’m still insecure. I’m still stressed out. I’m still crappy at dating.
I still don’t feel pretty.
Journalism is still dying. I still can’t find clothes I like. My “check engine” light is still on. I still make mistakes at work and with friends and at church. I still have to spend a hour getting ready in the morning. My car insurance rate is still $180 a month. I still miss my grandma Lindell more than my soul can bear. Health insurance still isn’t fixed. It’s still going to snow soon. I still have weak ankles.
The only actual changes all suck – I’m always hungry, and I have to work out everyday.
The “congrats” don’t make me feel nearly as good as I thought they would.
The “you look really good” doesn’t have nearly the ring to it I thought it would.
The icky come on’s from guys I never was interested in the first place don’t make me any happier – although I’m not sure I ever thought they would.
Maybe I’m being too honest right now. Maybe I should tell you that I do know I should be trusting God, and living for him and whatnot. I should tell you that I do know I never should have thought losing weight would solve all my problems.
Don’t worry. I knew all that.
But I still think these things. I still feel this way.
So now you know.
I’m semi-sure some people wonder how the heck a girl who seems as un-stupid as myself could have these thoughts.
I’d guess it has something to do with Barbie, Heidi Klum and the Weight Watchers commercials.
But I’m just guessing.
It also could be that the whole world and their dog conspires to make losing weight seem like the coolest thing since Twitter, because if they didn’t nobody would ever do it because losing weight is harder the hardest thing ever.
Again though, I’m just guessing here.