Monday morning. A fresh, new start. I love new starts. New chances. And this morning I’m in critical need of one. Last night I was screaming out of control at my husband and son. My behavior was inexcusable and I am bitterly ashamed. But the soothing balm of this fresh morning air reminds me that like the new day, I can start over.
Today I weigh less than I have since Tyler was born. Tomorrow I break the “pound barrier.” When I begin to get close to my previous lowest weight, I swear my body goes into red alert and starts fighting any additional weight loss. My mind is my main enemy at this point. Part of it starts this rationale: “You are looking so much better these days. Why, you’re looking as good as you have in years. Go ahead, have a treat. You deserve it.” It sounds absurd, but often getting down to “the lowest weight I’ve been in years” (even though that amount is eighty-some pounds more than my ideal weight) signals the end of my diet. So I am more than a little anxious to break the… pound barrier!