Anyway, for a more serious matter.

I have never been so aware of the limitations of my body than tonight. I decided to participate in some yoga, as people do sometimes. It was the first time I have ever participated. I am a pretty flexible person, at least I used to be. But I have gained weight. A lot of weight, actually. Some of the poses were hard for me because of the massive padding on my ass and thighs and back and just my bigness in general. Sometimes my stomach would even get in the way of things. It was not pretty.

You know, over the years, I've pretty much built up a pretty impressive case of fat denial. I know I'm fat, but I refuse to believe that its a problem. I can't climb the stairs without feeling at least a little out of breath, but hey, that's not that big of a problem, right?

My clothes don't look good on me. My face is fat. My PCOS hasn't gotten any better because I'm overweight. I have to do something about this.

A little history: I was a chubby kid, always. But around 14 and 15, I kinda grew into myself and my surroundings. I worked out with my mom. I didn't have a car so I was incapable of going out and getting fast food all the time. At my peak of hotness, I was about 125 pounds. That was almost 10 years ago.

For a long time after that, I climbed to 150 pounds. I weighed that much, and looked okay, until I met Matt when I was 17. When I met Matt, he unleashed my inner food whore. He, being almost 200 pounds overweight at the time, was also a food whore. Together we were enablers. We ate whatever we wanted, whenever we wanted. And since we were together and didn't really care what the other thought of our bodies, it got out of control.

This pattern lasted about 2 or 3 years, and I gained 50 pounds. The stretch marks showed up pretty early on in the whole gaining weight process. I had them ALL OVER. Arms, boobs, really really bad on the thighs and stomach. Thankfully, most of those have obviously faded by now, but I just wish I never gave them the chance to show up in the first place.

Since I was with Matt and he always told me he didn't care how much weight I gained, I kinda didn't care. I kept eating Taco Cabana and donuts and Steak and Cheese Bagels at McDonalds and the pounds just kept racking up. In April of 2002, I weighed 200 pounds. Matt and I both went on diets and at one point I lost almost 30 pounds of that. Of course, I have no willpower and I gained 20 pounds of that back over the last year and half.

And it's not the working out thing. I love working out. I can spend an hour and a half at the gym and be happy with that. If I didn't work out, I'd probably be a big blob of grossness. But my arms are kinda toned, my legs are muscular, etc. But that doesn't help the stomach. The only thing that will help with that is the whole eating right thing.

For the past two years, I've fluctuated a lot. Last summer, I was down to a respectable weight because when I was jobless for 2 months I worked out like a madman. I even wore shorts for the first time in 4 or 5 years, and I was proud of that. But, I became unemployed again, became even more depressed than usual, and on came the Taco Cabana.

Not to mention the times that I've succumbed to bulemia. I never did it that much, but I still did it, and that's not good. That's a problem. I even did it last week after eating 5 pieces of Dominos Pizza. I can go months without doing it, but sometimes I just stick my finger down my throat and get it over with. It's not pretty, but its something I do.

So, here I am now, about 190 pounds. I'm not proud of this. I could feel the limitations of my body tonight, and I didn't like it. I want to be on a diet, I want to stick to it, and I don't want to be affected by the fact that the donut place is 5 minutes away and the Taco Bueno is one exit down on the highway. I want to lose weight, feel healthier, be healthier, feel better about myself.

The problem is, I don't wake up in the morning and decide to pig out. It just happens in the normal evolution of my day. It's usually in between 2 and 6 PM where I get really hungry and start thinking about how good the mexi dips and chips sound. But I recognize the fact that I can't do this anymore. I have to make a commitment and just do it.

You know why? I just have to. The reality is that I have to find me a man someday. I have one hanging around, but he's not looking towards the future. I don't feel safe in our future. I'm not sure if I want our future to be safe. And as its going right now, I sure don't want to show up on a first date looking the way I do right now. I wouldn't feel comfortable. I wouldn't feel sexy.

Not to mention jobs and stuff. I think it's like a proven fact that if I were going to a job interview against someone 50 pounds lighter than me, they would probably get it just because they look better, and they have more confidence anyway, and such like that.

So, I have to suck it up. I hate saying that because I say that everyday. But I have to do it. I can't do this to myself anymore, its too depressing and its taking a toll. It literally is not healthy for me. I think I did well today.. I think I ate less than 1,000 calories and burned probably about half or more of that. But part of that 1,000 calories was pizza. and really, that's not good. I have to eat healthy things. Because as my mom has always said, you are what you eat. I recognize the fact that since I feel like shit about myself, I eat shit. And since I ate shit, I feel like shit. It's a cycle that's only gotten worse over the years.

I'm not sure why I felt compelled to share all this, but I feel like I need to hold myself accountable. I NEED to lose weight, it's just a fact. I know what I have to do but I'm not sure if I'm strong enough to do it. I just have to find something somewhere inside of me and exploit it all the way down to freedom. I have to do that. I WANT to do that. But can I do that?

I guess we'll see.