Fatty Fat Fatterson

Dude,

I went to the doctor last week and I have hit the top again. 227!!!

It's disheartening and frustrating and also I hate that I let it bug me so much. I am more comfortable now in my skin than I have been at any other point in my life. But when I look at myself in the mirror I don't see the funny, smart, kind, faithful person I am. I see a big ass. and big thighs, and a slight gut, and bad posture, and hair I don't have time to deal with.

So, as with most things in life, this makes me reflective.

I think back to being in high school and college and thinking that I needed to cover all that up with more clothes. That it couldn't possibly be sexy, why would anyone want to be with me. I remember wishing I had to confidence to wear the clothes the other people around me were wearing (but remember this was the late 90's, I'm now glad no one has pictures of me in any of those things, good lord)

I think ahead, at what it might do to my daughters if I get down on my body and my appearance. Do you know what they say? They tell me I'm beautiful, when I'm in a good mood they tell me how much they love my smile and "happy voice" With minimal effort I get little hands cupping my face telling me I'm the most beautiful mommy ever. They only see the good now, how might my insecurities tarnish that? Probably a lot.

In the movie plot of my life, this is the point where I drive in the slowly fading sunset and listen to grungy 90's music and stare contemplatively into the distance thinking about the next steps.

so, yeah, gonna go do that now.