In a mere 7 weeks I leave for Jamaica where I will be for exactly 20 days.  Curb your jealous, I know. I know. But I have issued a challenge for myself. In the days between right now and June 8th I want to lose 20lbs.

First, a story. So a while back I mentioned talking to an old friend about her amazingly spectacular  100+ pound weight loss and I set the same goal for myself. Since that time I never stopped wanting it, but I was never truly committed to the goal. I would start something then quit, start then quit, start then…you get the picture. I do not really diet but I do try to eat well, but if I ate as well as I often allude to eat then I highly doubt I’d have some of these issues. But I digress. I can woman up and speak to it, I love sweets. I do.  I have a thing for ice creams and gelatos, cakes and cookies…sweet stuff is my thing. I also snack at night.  These two things I stared at sternly in the corners of my conscious and said to them, You have to go.

Next, I recognized this irrational discomfort surrounding food preparation. Namely because my roommate is a SUPER healthy eater and sometimes I order pizza…so I would eat down in my room and only when she wasn’t in the kitchen would I venture into the kitchen. I realized one day when I let myself get so hungry that my stomach was beating me up as I waited for her to leave the kitchen that I had an issue.  I was ashamed of what I knew I was going to do. It sounds like a drug addict. I remember this one episode of Private Practice when Shepard had gotten hooked back on pills and in an intervention they made her use in front of everyone. The addictions counselor said, “Oh no you don’t, you do it out here for everyone to see.” It felt kind of like that. Only, I don’t want to shame myself, but I do want to be proud of what I’m putting into my body. I want to openly engage in public displays of affection with my own body.

I knew what needed to be done. I mean who doesn’t? Exercise, eat well, drink water…it’s the things you hear all the time only now I want to do them. I watched my birthday cake disappear piece by piece until I finally threw it out because I knew  I would finish it if it stayed. I bought veggies, quinoa, lean meats like salmon and talapia. I said “No” to salt and said “Hell yes” to a gallon of water a day.

And I ran.

IMG_1095I made up excuse after excuse at 6:00am, 7:00am, 8:00am about why I couldn’t go…it was cold…it was foggy…it was WORK was the true reason. I didn’t want to do it. I went to work and had the kind of day where everyone is annoying you just because they are there. I couldn’t pinpoint where my sour mood was coming from. On top of that, I kept being interrupted by bathroom breaks from this darn gallon of water challenge. So I got home, turned on the TV flopped down on the couch and went to my google reader where I saw this (Mama Laughlin). She wrote:

I was SO TIRED and PISSED that I had to get up so early.
That I had to make those kind of sacrifices to get in my workouts.
I was resentful that I didn’t have enough time in the day.
But you know what I did?
I sucked it up, got up, and got my ass to the gym at 5am.
And the craziest thing happened…. within 10 minutes of sweating I started to feel better.
I wasn’t pissed off anymore and my day instantly turned around.
Being that I was in a similar mood I decided…lets go. So I changed clothes, and went for a run (a very slow run) around my neighborhood. Yes I stopped for breaks. Yes I felt like I wanted to d.i.e. because the last mile was uphill. Yes my lungs ached, and my feet were heavy and sweat dripped, and I’m sure cars were passing me like, “She might as well be walking,” but I did not care. 45 minutes later I was home and I felt amazing. I snapped a picture and I decided that the only way to shed some light on all the truth I have been hiding is to do what I always do….invite love in, invite truth in, write.
So here I am. I want to commit to at least archiving the 7 week journey here…maybe later tonight I will create a separate tab just for my #20byTakeoff challenge. But I welcome new visitors, old familiars, supporters, encouragers, strangers, and loved ones to see the yucky underbelly of what it looks like to start from scratch for the bajillionth time.
For my twitter updates: @PhDubb
For my instagram photos: @PhDubb
It ain’t always gonna be pretty, but I promise it’ll always be the truth.



A Letter to Fat Girls

Dear Fat Girls,

You are not, nor will you ever be Beyoncè. Stop torturing yourself with the unfair comparisons to her, or any other celebrity who’s body you covet. She is beautiful, but so are you.

Stop reading magazine after magazine, book after book, and blog after blog on How to Lose Weight. You know how, we all know how. But don’t beat yourself up because you haven’t made it work. Don’t think there must be something wrong with you since others can seem to lose, yet you continue to struggle. There is nothing wrong with you. Their journey is theirs and yours is yours.

There is much to be said about the industry dedicated to telling you how your wrongs can be righted. The pills that suppress hunger, the exercise machine that builds muscle, the pre-packed low fat vegan non-dairy dinners that promise a daily allotment of nutrients.  But nothing for the heart.

Fat girls, I know you. I am you. We’re not stupid. We know it takes burning more calories than we consume to lose weight. We know that truly sustainable weight-loss happens from a lifestyle dedicated to health not just bikini daydreams and special K.  We know. But we don’t know how to address the distorted relationship with food.

We don’t know how to say, food was my mother, father, best friend when I had no one else. Food never judged me. Food never scolded me. Food was never cruel, hurtful, or absent. Food never lied, broke promises, or disappointed. How do we begin to separate feelings of safety, comfort, and love–usually reserved for people–from food?


I don’t have an answer. Not a sure fire one. But I can say this, I know I am not, nor will I ever be Beyonce. I recognize that when I read book after book and blog after blog about weight loss that my story is just beginning, and there is nothing wrong with me that I look more before than after. I know that prepackaged promises are not for me, and that my journey begins with following my heart and not expecting a miracle or a quick fix. I recognize that food is food, and am working to reconcile the feelings I have about it at every single meal.

I read a lot of people’s stories. I hear people talk about a moment they had, an epiphany that woke them up and begged for change. I wanted, so desperately, for me (in those moments) to be reading the story that would illicit my own awakening. And each time that it didn’t happen I sunk deeper into a despair that maybe I would always be on the outside looking in at thin. I’ve chased it with such fervor and it has escaped me, true to form, like a thief being chased. Yet now I find myself exhausted by the entire race, I hung my “size 14 goal pants” in the back of my closet and thought gingerly of throwing them out all together.

And here in my exhaustion, I’ve found myself eating cleaner working out more regularly and being content with my reflection in the mirror. I have not looked at my thighs with disgust or disdain, and I’ve found them getting firmer. So, I say it has to be in the surrender. Fat girls, sometimes its about the fight. But othertimes its about the surrender. Giving in to the feelings we eat to escape. Giving in to being tired after running up 1 flight of stairs. Its important to know exactly where you are, I think. Because only when you sit and truly look at where you dwell can you make the decision to stay or to go.

Lastly, I have to say that it wasn’t the number on the scale. It wasn’t the rising jeans size or the new body discomforts. It wasn’t the 3rd strapless and unflattering bridesmaid dress, or the inability to fasten a seatbelt on a rollercoaster. It wasn’t the threat of diabetes, high blood pressure, or heart disease. It wasn’t even the growing chance of being sterile. It was the little voice inside of me that reminded me of who I am and what I could do.

No, fat girls, I am not Beyonce. I am Jessica. I am overweight, and haven’t even lost enough to be considered an authority on doing it right or well. My relationship with food is fucked up. I am trying to make peace with eating well and working out. I struggle, I fail, I hate admitting how hard this is. Fat girl, you might think I’m just talking…But I know you. I am you. And I love you.


A while ago I was watching the Oprah 20th anniversary special dvds (judge not) and one of the 6 discs was solely dedicated to issues of weight and weight loss. Many people told their stories about how they did it, the emotional turmoil, the fortitude, etc. One story in particular stayed with me…it was a guy who’d lost a significant amount of weight and when asked about he described how he saw his end goal. He saw himself, under the layers of hurt and pain and his past, and when he saw himself he didn’t stop until the outside matched the inside, what he’d seen in his mind.

Listening to that then I thought of my own struggle. Actually, while I have been overweight from probably age 6 or 7 until now I never remember feeling so uncomfortable in my skin until recently. I have never not been in the “normal” range of clothes, though I certainly can wear some plus size things as well. I have not had significant health problems related to weight. Its only ever been about image. And while some part of me knew I should not be the size that I am, I could not imagine anything different. There was no picture in my mind of any other me.

Until yesterday. I’d gone with a friend to workout early yesterday morning. I’ve been fighting a cold since coming back to Chile and my body did not want to get up and go workout but I just felt like I needed it, so I went. I didn’t make it through the first set of exercises, lunges…but I stuck it out and within the hour I’d managed to complete the workout. It was a series of cardio (Spin) and strength training on a Gravity machine. However, it happened on the spin bike.

I was peddling and dripping sweat trying to talk myself out of quitting when I looked in the mirror and facing me was another me. A me that was strong, resilient, and capable and she was peddling. Asking my physical body to let her do it. So I did. I gave in and surrendered to her request. And while she was limited, still, by my physical body she got me through that climb. And those push-ups. And those planks. When I asked of her, she was there.


She let me know that she is with me and can get us through this. She is a warrior. That’s the best way I can describe her. I can see her so vividly in my mind now, since yesterday. When I got home I snapped a photo, “Day 1”

And I recognized that I have about 150 days before I go to Jamaica. Being on a tropical island in summer time, who wouldn’t want to be fine? But she isn’t stopping there. She’s already thinking the 29th year is her training year for 30. I closed my eyes and looked at her closely. She still feels separate from me, but she assures me she is within. She said: let me be strong, let me be dutiful, all you have to do is allow it, I’m ready. Let me.

I am not so evolved that her words didn’t scare me. Frighten me and want to sabotage by reaching for fast food just so I could feel in control again. But she did not leave. This morning she said, you’re sore, let’s go for a walk…

That, I thought, must be what he felt. When he could see it, when he could see his healthy, vibrant self he was seeing what I am seeing. And I wondered if I should even tell anyone; post any pictures or write any blogs. And she said quite plainly, those were you, but this is my first time. So here we are. Me and my two selves, plain as day in my mind and at each meal and each opportunity I have to surrender to one of them. I know that only when I give in to her, though, do both of us win.

On my lips

Losing weight is not nor has it ever been about losing weight. After I finished that last post, I got dressed and went on a run/walk around my neighborhood. I listened to the Belle Brigades and went to explore. Down unexplored streets and finding new views; I was looking for the sting in my lungs.

It was an hour later when I was laying on my floor dripping sweat and meditating when the thought came to me, losing weight is not about losing weight. Then I decided it was time to take some financial advice from Suze Orman and get really honest.

When I moved home from Nashville back in 2008, I was at my heaviest and I weighed 324lbs. May I just pause and in this moment reflect on what it is like for me to admit that out loud and to the entire world? I was 324lbs and so incredibly fragile. I was at the edge and incidentally, the furthest I have ever been to feeling powerful. To write that, to know that people many people will read this and know the dirty ugly truth of my life…feels good. Nothing grows in darkness except mushrooms. So I was 324 and once I moved out on my own, started to eat better, feel better and live better…find my stride in life and in my profession…a profession, might I add, that saved my life I got down to 260. When I look at the photos I don’t see it. I don’t see 60lbs gone, it didn’t feel miraculous or monumental or anything even close to that. It felt like I was 260lbs and needed to be half that. I was still not in a place where I could celebrate or even recognize my victories. I was still numb to my self.

All of that came to me in my shower after the run and after the meditation. You know how to physically do this, you have done this before. You know it and there was still a disconnect and I had the thought again, LOSING WEIGHT IS NOT, NOR HAS IT EVER BEEN ABOUT LOSING WEIGHT. I remembered old episodes of Oprah and old thoughts and reflections about how if I kept making losing weight this huge monumental mountain, and if I approached it with the mindset that it was damn near impossible that I was setting myself up for failure. And yet, I didn’t have an alternative. I didn’t know how else to think about it. I could not, having lived the life I have lived with the experiences I have experienced, reframe my view on losing weight.

Until today.

When I made the parallel between what power felt like and the sensation of running, something click for me. This is not about losing weight, or getting fit, or any of those pseudonyms we use for looking attractive to the general public. This was about being intimately connected to my power. I need to feel that connection, I need to step into my power and when I saw how to do it, I had to try. I pushed myself to keep going because the longer I went the more I felt it. And the more I wanted to cry. I was walking up hill and sweat was seeping from the bend in my arm, such an uncomfortable place to sweat, and I saw a license plate that said “Just4Jes” and I started to cry. I started to cry because it was an external manifestation of my exact internal feeling…this was about finding myself, and if I see it in that way then it’s not impossible or even daunting, it’s invigorating and inviting and inspiring and freeing and overwhelming in the best way.

It clicked for me today. And in my moment of honesty with myself and with the world, I felt so beautifully connected. It means very little to reveal numbers or even thoughts because I am not those things. I am. And nothing comes after that, nothing that follows that very compete sentence can hold me captive in shame in judgement in persecution in solitude in bondage in loneliness in silence.

I feel nothing but grace and gratitude right now, for daring to chase it, to try. I am emotional and happy and at peace.

…and the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom. –Anaïs Nin

What does it take to LISTEN?

I have said on numerous occasions that God speaks in the way that we listen. Not only that, but the universe will start at a whisper, then speak, the yell, then its a deafening echo ringing in our ears without yield. And even though I say these things, and I know these things, sometimes it still takes me getting life lessons in surround sound before I take action. I have been working at listening at 2, and for lots of things I’ve done well, but with others…

People have been suggesting I write a book or publish my posts as a book for as long as I have shared my blog and to some extent even before that. At first, I said that I didn’t have a books worth of anything to say about any “one” thing. Well…I have over 1,200 posts and if I used my tags like I should, I’d be willing to bet I’m wrong and already proved it. Then I said I didn’t have time.  Then I didn’t have help. Then I said okay! I’ll do it, but then…I didn’t. Twice.

I thought about this curious cycle as I lay in bed itching to write just as I wake, like most mornings, and I sent words of gratitude to a friend who had written to me suggesting I publish. I thought, what is it going to take for you to listen? I asked myself, “are you playing small?”

Naia text me yesterday and spoke of our lives and how they often run parallel even across great distances. She spoke, also, of how she had recently been warned about playing small and laughed when she read it had come up for me on Friday. I thought back to Brene and I wondered what it would feel like to step into my power.  I should say, step fully. Not that having one foot in is celebratory; it has you completely off balance and when you’re halfway in two spaces, you’re not really in either. 

The feeling that comes to mind is that high you get after you just ran on a crisp day. Clear mind, open lungs, a heart racing with excitement…and it occurred to me just this moment that I have never experienced that. Yet, that is what I imagine power to be…isn’t that interesting and telling? I want to be a runner, I want to be a published author…I want to experience the runners high but in order to do that–i have to run. If the high is power then I have to step into it. That was one of those moments where things make sense on a whole new level.

The Colonel always asks, “if not now, when?” And that just felt very deafening. This is me listening.

Watching weight and irrational fears

I have a very irrational fear. I realize it is not completely sound or founded on anything rather than its near absolute reality. Consider the following statement by Elizabeth Gilbert from her book Committed:

“The desire to feel chosen. A wedding; a public event that will unequivocally prove to everyone, especially to myself, that I am precious enough to have been selected by somebody forever…What better confirmation of her preciousness could she summon than a ceremony in a beautiful church where she could be regarded by all in attendance as a princess, a virgin, an angel, a treasure beyond rubies? Who could fault her for wanting to know-just once-what that feels like?”

And on this day, my day, the day I marry my life partner, my husband, my love, I have a terrible fear of being a fat bride. Now, I know there are plenty of voluptuous women who make absolutely stunning brides. I just have no desire to be one of them. I suppose it makes sense, I can’t say that I have ever really looked at a thick curvy body and had it resonate. On the flip side, I have not looked at a super svelte body and longed for that either, I love the toned body of an athlete.

But in a wedding dress…its different. Its soft and romantic and sexy! I want to be all that and comfortable. Not that I am getting married anytime soon, but when I see photos of brides…


Like this one? I see dark chocolate skin and a woman who is comfortable in in. Yeah, its about the comfort. Its recent for me that I have been supremely uncomfortable in my own skin. I decided to do something about it; I joined weight watchers. I can already tell you that within two days of journaling my food and points it has me thinking.

I was walking today and craving junk and I made myself think of what it would cost me. Not only points wise, but in the long run–I thought of the ugliest white gown I could imagine and saw myself waddling down the aisle. Ridiculous though it may seem, it quelled my craving for french fries immediately.

My person rolls her eyes whenever I mention my FBF (fat bride fear) but I can’t help it. And I don’t think I want to. I want to count my points and go on walks and eventually runs, and I’ll do that until my outside matches my inside.

Chasing Pavements

It was one of those total fluke pictures that made me look pounds lighter than I actually am. It was kind of alarming to see, because I wasn’t looking for it at the time. Much like Cher from Clueless, I like to photograph my outfits in the morning and judge them based on the photo versus the mirror. I am convinced the mirror can lie. So, the picture was taken and I ended up changing the outfit and thought nothing of it until I went to delete the picture today.


Total fluke, right? Anyway it got me to thinking. I sent it to my person and she said Ooh you look skinny! Oddly I winced. I responded, its a fluke! You just saw me. She said “you are not going to be an obese bride.” Seriously, my biggest fear.

I realize that I have a thing. I like for things to appear a certain way. I mean, I like for them to be a certain way too, its not solely about looks…but I prefer put together. I do not think its entirely unhealthy, and I’ve wondered if its about impressing others and to some extent, sure, I guess it is. However, I can say that I feel more at peace when I am in a beautiful space that is intentional and clear. That carries out in nearly everything I do, wardrobe included.

That being said, I looked at this picture and thought about my fear of hills. It was interesting, I’d just written two professors about Avatar: The Last Airbender and so maybe the ideals were fresh on my mind. But I was considering how I met each hill I encounter with trepidation and disdain. That’s the energy I give to earth, and what does that say? What does that do? Throughout my neighborhood there are a few hills and as I’ve considered walking I, of course, consider these hills. I also consider them on campus although I walk up one everyday.

Why do I fear hills? Earth is the opposite of air. It quite literally represents all the things I avoid in life…earth-benders have the most control when their feet are on the ground. We could honestly stop there, I live in the sky in every way. Imagination isnt grounded, its everything but! I can’t relate to this sentiment at.all. Also, earth is solid, enduring, and utilizes neutral jing which requires patience and waiting. Couldn’t be less me. I hate both.

So, I had a talk with myself. I asked if I was going to allow earth to keep me from meeting my goal. I asked if I was going to fear hills or be one. Be one in the sense that I am strong, tall, and immovable.

If you want to move a rock, you have to be like a rock yourself

I have known this before. I have even said this before. I have not, however, felt connected to this before. I’ve not really understood what was meant by being a rock. Or a hill. Or any element of earth. I get it so clearly now, though. Its that kind of clarity that I imagine that limitless pill gave, where things even seemingly unrelated become married and relevant.

I am ready to chase pavements. I am ready to master earth.

post publishing…
I went to upload this post to facebook, as I do every post as of late and I was met with hesitancy. Not at sharing, exactly, I realized a while ago that sharing is powerful and necessary. I was hesitant because I’ve done this before. I’ve made proclamations before and seemed hopeful and yet, remained woefully distant from my fitness goals. So here I was again publishing a post and I was not even sure I believed myself. Major problem.

I am really grateful I caught myself in that thought. Right now, I realize that I am asking myself to believe in the impossible. That is how it feels, to at least some part of me. I have to acknowledge that. I do not, however, have to empower that. I believe in the very best in people and I believe in the very best in myself. So dubious self, I hear you and I respectfully disagree with you. This is not impossible and I intend to prove it.

Bad news for mushrooms

It had been a productive day so far, I got my outlines done for class and got quite a bit of reading in. I’d washed dishes, cleaned my room a bit, emailed my notes to my group and even managed to get a nap in.  I was feeling…off though, and more than anything I was feeling restless.  Wanting some silent entertainment, I chose to pull cards, and immediately when I thought of it I knew it was the perfect night to do it.

Instead of doing it the way Nama showed me, however, I chose to read the instructions for the cards.  I knew that the cards also followed the I’Ching but I was unsure how, so I was eager to learn how.  After preparing my materials, getting my coins and paper/pen, I was ready.  What to ask the deck first…success? No, I never have any interest in that…love? Maybe later but not right now. Then it came to me. This issue of weight has been plaguing me and I feel as though I am climbing an impossible mountain.  Even though I know it is absolutely do-able and even the logistics of how to climb it, in practice I find myself nestled in failure.  So I asked, why is losing weight so difficult for me?

tao oracle tarot card 33 retreatI drew 33–Retreat

Geese intuitively know before the seasons change that the time for retreat is imminent.  That have built in understanding that they must depart once the days get shorter, or they will invite danger…In human life a considered departure is a sign of intelligence when it is in response to insurmountable odds.  Whenever you have a deep intuitive sense that it would be unwise to remain any longer in a situation, or in a relationship, pay attention it it.  The intuitive self knows when periods of transition are approaching…

When it becomes clear that the surrounding atmosphere has become chilly, and what once supported growth and expansion is no longer available to you, consider all your options–but not for too long.  Avoid any tendency to intellectualize and watch out for the circular fretfulness of a mind that won’t budge until it figures things out.  

Let go is another form of retreat.  Letting go releases the grip of over-identification with something, someone or some concept that might have been useful or even precious once, but now needs to be put behind you…Only humans are so foolish as to ignore the signs, preferring to hold fast even to that which is likely to make them suffer. 

I was stunned at how closely this resembled everything I wrote about yesterday and everything I have been feeling lately.  My weight has really never bothered me as much as it has lately, it feels like a prison. I think about all this Jung I read yesterday…about how we have to acknowledge both parts of a thing so that we can transcend.  Perhaps I have not been the least bit inclined to acknowledge any positives or uses for carrying this much weight but perhaps I should?.  It served me…(my entire body is tingling right now on the cusp of full disclosure about something so incredibly intimate). It served me because it gave me a buffer; I could be invisible when I wanted to and simultaneously it would not be ignored.  I do believe my weight is a physical representation of my inner struggle: be seen|be invisible.

I would imagine that anyone who has ever known me would find it hard to imagine that I do not enjoy being social or in the company of others, and that is half true.  I do enjoy socializing but I very rarely (and only recently) discuss myself or anything of true value to me with others.  I suppose I am guilty of the thing I hate most, offering inauthentic conversation. Only…it is not so much inauthentic as it is superficial.  I steer very clear of going deep with anyone.  So being heavy allows me to both have an unmistakable presence, as well as escape intrusion of those wanting to get to know me as (in my head) they would a more physically attractive person.

I did my I’Ching lines and they were the same except lines 4&5 which lead me to the 40–Deliverance:

Line 4: do not take anything for granted.  Sometimes what imprisons us is exactly what we cling to for security…make sure that you are not trying to hold on to anything that has the potential to grow into a familiar old prison.
Line 5: It might be comforting to think that somebody else can liberate us, but the truth of the matter is that each of us holds the key to deliverance in our own hands.  When outside circumstances combine to remind you of your inner freedom, it is both a gift an a provocation.  If you expect the door to open magically by itself, you’re living in a fantasy.  Your’e going to have to put that key in the lock and turn it, and then push the door open using your own strength.  

Do I really need to further explain how spot-on-relevant this is?

It dawned on me that when Marianne Williamson said to Oprah, “Until you accept the magnitude of your function, your unconscious mind will sabotage any attempt to show your full magnificence” what she was really saying was the same thing Jung said in his second principle of the psyche, the principal of equivalance,

The energy created from the opposition is “given” to both sides equally. So, when I held that baby bird in my hand, there was energy to go ahead and try to help it. But there is an equal amount of energy to go ahead and crush it. I tried to help the bird, so that energy went into the various behaviors involved in helping it. But what happens to the other energy? Well, that depends on your attitude towards the wish that you didn’t fulfill. If you acknowledge it, face it, keep it available to the conscious mind, then the energy goes towards a general improvement of your psyche. You grow, in other words.

But if you pretend that you never had that evil wish, if you deny and suppress it, the energy will go towards the development of a complex. A complex is a pattern of suppressed thoughts and feelings that cluster – constellate – around a theme provided by some archetype.

If you pretend all your life that you are only good, that you don’t even have the capacity to lie and cheat and steal and kill, then all the times when you do good, that other side of you goes into a complex around the shadow. That complex will begin to develop a life of its own, and it will haunt you (source).

So, I have to acknowledge it…its function, its utility, its protection as well as its expiration, and its imprisonment. Then I have to let it go.  I do believe I thought I could get through it without being 100% honest about it all. Without saying that yes, I eat too much of the wrong thing and do not exercise enough.  Of course, I know all the things I need to do, but when it comes time to do them I feel incompetent because I am not good at them.  I really really hate not being good at things.

I realize that I set ridiculously high standards for myself (and this test our professor gave us last week on parts of our personality proved it). I know that I am not going to be immediately good at working out, even if once upon a time I was decent at it.  I know that…but when it comes time, it just feels defeating.  It feels pathetic really, because somehow in those moments you feel every lb that you are, and you wonder how it got so bad? How you got so far away from yourself? And the only thing you know to make it better is the thing that got you there in the first place. No, not food, not sugary drinks, not skipping workouts; giving up.  It is a difficult thing to admit that I gave up. That I felt too incapable of handling whatever was going on in my life at the time and that I went to food for comfort.

I haven’t yet reconciled the bad taste that feelings of weakness leaves in my mouth. Nor have I found any discernible rewards from admitting my physical incompetence.  I do, however know that I am at a point of transition. I am at a point where, I feel ready to fall forward off the cliff into the unknown and that there is no solace where I am anymore.  I feel like my days have gotten short, and if I stay I am inviting danger in the form of diabetes, heart disease, infertility, and likely my biggest fear: loneliness.  Isolation caused my me and my inability, or rather…my unwillingness to let people in and be susceptible to hurt in any real way.

That is what I know today.  That is what was confirmed today.  Light on a dark truth…but really, bringing light to the darkness is only bad news for mushrooms.