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 So, I am on day two of my quest to clear my soul and reclaim my body from the ravishes of self abuse.  Many tacos, chips, salsa, pizza slices, double cheeseburgers, McDonald’s french fries, and little white donuts later, life is what it is.  All of that food did nothing to make things better.  I am sure I would have finished college and my post grad classes without all that crappy food keeping me “company” in the middle of the night when the world is alseep but McD’s is still open.  I am finally willing to accept the responsibility that I did this to myself.  Not my ex husband, not his affair, but me.  I allowed myself to wallow in pity and used food to hug me and wipe away my tears. 

 I will not look at yesterday and what was or what could have been but will learn to relish today and what it brings and savor the sweet taste of tomorrow’s success.   I hope that my resolve can stay strong as I have 95 pounds to lose.  I still can’t believe that number looms in front of me.  But it is what it is.  What a fine mess I’ve gotten myself into this time.  But I want to feel beautiful again.  But for myself.  Not for anyone else.  I spent years being beautiful for others.  Wouldn’t go to the store without hair and makeup done.  Being fat takes all the pressure off because NOONE looks at me now.  Well except to comment about my weight gain.  Behind my back.  Like I haven’t noticed I wear a size 18 and I used to wear a size 8. 

 I overheard a male coworker talking about me.  He said, “Bobbie used to be so beautiful”.  I felt so embarrased when I heard that.   Sigh…

I want to feel good.  I want to not have my thighs rub together and my feet not ache after standing on them too long.  I want to walk a flight of stairs and not be winded.  I want ME back.  Just for me.  Not for anyone else.  I want to love me again.  The divorce, while I understand I have to accept responsibilty for it, I was not responsible for my husband’s affairs.  There was nothing so wrong with me that he had to be with others.  Being sexually abused as a child was not my fault either.  I was 4 years old and it ended when I was 10.  I was a child who was taken advantage of.  I didn’t deserve it. I still don’t understand the why and I guess I don’t have to.  It happened.  It’s part of my story and who I am.  

I hope to be as strong as some of these women on this blog site.  In one day I found strength when someone told me that 42 isn’t too old to start losing weight and that I can do it.  Thank you.  Â