So I get on the scale this morning and it's 275, so I took my weight again and again and again because there was just no way this could be right. I then precede to my closet and start pulling clothes out left and right, I'm going to prove that the scale is wrong by the clothes that still don't fit. Well, figs to me because they did. I got my 28 shorts on and zipped, I still won't wear them for another 10 pounds or so, but I could breathe and bend.
And then it hits me, 25-35 pounds from now I'll be able to fit into 50% of my closet and instead of jumping for joy, I'm standing there like a deer in headlights. This can't be true, I'm waiting for the roof of my house to split open and for aliens to beam me up to an alternate universe because this can not be happening. It's almost as if I'm shocked this is unfolding, even though it shouldn't, I exercise my butt off and have embraced a loving attitude towards food, so why I am freaking out and waiting for the other shoe to drop.
For those of you who've already been there, how do you begin to accept the accomplishments with the same grace as the struggle?
