ForwardHO

Today is a landmark day.

It's not like I'm back to eating water crackers and carrott sticks three square meals a day (hell, I was never that strict) but I am doing all that I can to set myself up to WIN re: WW and healthy eating and...healthy thinking, the latter being the hardest of course. I changed my screen name on WW and basically revamped my profile. I needed a fresh start. I like my new name, even if it's a tad dramatic: ForwardHope. I have felt quite backwards lately, or, more to the point, like I was sliding back into a morass of self loathing and self-destruction, and I didn't like the way that felt, not one bit. So a reclamation of sorts is in order, and I'm starting small, careful not to set myself up for failure.

I thought the other day: What if you died tomorrow? You would never know what it was like to inhabit a body you love. And that made me so very sad. I also had a conversation recently with my ex, during which she told me about the love triangle that her indecision continues to perpetuate and I remember saying to her (in reference to the "other woman"), "Are you in love with her?" .......silence, umm's....and then, regarding her partner, from whom she is currently separated "Are you in love with HER?" and the response was a quick "of course!" I then responded with "then you have your answer! Life is just too short..." which is so fucking pat, I know, but dammit it's true!! And why am I not applying it to my own life? Why am I so convinced that I'm shit, rotten from the outside in? Because I was taught to believe that. Because I let myself believe it. Because notions of beauty, when I was growing up, were based on impossible measurements that I would/could never attain.

This moment, this day, is when all the power I have left--whatever shred of self-respect and strength I can muster--is called upon to be present. I'm pushing this obese specter off of me with all my might and looking it square in the eye. I'm saying no more you fat fuck. I won't let you hurt me anymore. Now go have that fifth serving of pasta and that fourth martini and leave me to my happiness, will you?

Faithfulness to the past is a kind of death above ground. Writing of the past is a resurrection; the past then lives in your words and you are free.