Seriously??

Today was the day. All week long, I have been stretching and sweating and jogging and lifting and toning. After last Saturday's 4 pound surprise, I knew that one week later with this much effort, I was bound to have something to look forward to on the scale. I've heard that your body should really only be losing 1-2 pounds a week, so I told myself that I was definitely going to see at least one pound lower. I rushed to the gym, with euphoria to find I was the first one there, got on the scale and found I actually gained a pound.

Pardon me, but what. the. fuck. Seriously body? Are you taunting me from all the hard work I put you through this week? Are you trying to make me cry? I keep telling myself that it's a pound of muscle, that I actually am toning up my body, but what do I know.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not totally discouraged. Just because I haven't seen progress this week doesn't mean I'm giving up. I'm thinking about starting a food journal to help me keep track. I haven't been making daily goals for myself so maybe that has something to do with it.

We all know that I have a love hate relationship with my body, but in the last few days as I kill myself at the gym or with a Netflix workout video I like, I can't help but feel so disgusted with myself. The more I see how hard it is to change my body, the clearer my shape becomes. Suddenly this stomach that I thought was slowly shrinking seems like a giant balloon, a zeppelin that I'll never be be rid of. The stretch marks, the cellulite, the jiggling flab that covers every inch of my short frame, while I know it's changing, suddenly seems so much more apparent. I wanted my pants to fit better; I wanted to see my face get narrower.

I remember when I lost the 30 pounds in high school. I remember being dragged along for the ride and then one day, without realizing it the days or weeks before, my body was different. I don't know at what point I started to notice it, but it was obvious. I was becoming this different person and I hadn't even struggled to get there. I barely followed my sister's diet, constantly sneaking snacks at school, and I did not remotely push myself at my forced visits to the gym. And look what happened there.

I know it's hard to really tell what my body looked like in both of these pictures, but if nothing else you can see where my change in self esteem came from. The picture on the top is me starting out my senior year. I was 17 and weighed about 10-20 pounds more than I am today. I wore size 18 pants, ate like a monster, and was incredibly depressed. Below is me after losing about 30-35 pounds. It was my last day of high school. I know it's not a full body picture, and I can tell you I wasn't exactly ready to wear a bikini. But I was 165 and I had never before and barely since felt so great about myself. I often regard this picture as one of the best ones ever taken of me.

I want to be that girl again. I want that smile, that hair, that stomach. I don't know what I did to get like this, but I look forward to the day that I have her confidence again.