And only ate ten. Not the entire family size bag but ten. They're still sitting on the counter. And I could go eat the rest of the whole bag and it's tempting but I won't. I'm no longer my habits. I'm no longer my anxiety. My shame can't touch me.
Over the past three (fourish) months I've lost nearly thirty pounds and four inches from my waist. Lately I'm hovering at about 175(for the past couple weeks) but every day I get up look in the mirror and when the negative thoughts creep in I rebuke them. I give em to ol what for. God damn it, I look good. I.look.good. but I'm gonna look better. But just because I can look better doesn't mean I'm ugly now. The key to my weight loss has been to stop shaming myself for not already having hit my goal weight and being in goal shape. Because if I give in, and I do that then I'll never get to see the man I want to be looking in the mirror back at me. Because I'll have convinced myself I don't deserve to be him. And that's just wrong. Because damn it, I look good and I'm gonna look better
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