One Point Two Seven Freaking Pounds
It's Minnesota Fashion week (yes that's a thing and it's amazing), and while it has mostly been insanely fun, it has also been remarkably triggering. I'll write more about the whole experience once the week is wrapped up in a nice little bow this weekend, but right now I need to say something.
I feel like absolute shit today. SHIT. Shiiiiiiiiit. I've given the thought "I wish I looked like her," a lot of mental real-estate over the past four days, and by day five it has all caught up with me. I woke up feeling bloated and puffy and ready to go back to bed for six months. My face and stomach feel three times bigger than they were yesterday. For some reason I thought that this would be a good time to get on the scale, and I'm 1.27 pounds heavier than I was last week. 1.27!!!! It may as well be 100 extra pounds because as we all know, gaining weight is a fate worse than death. I would not wish the walrus-esque existence on my worst enemy. How can I show my face in the fashion community again tonight knowing that I've gained over one pound! They'll know it right away, it will be a scarlet number, 1.27, displayed boldly on my double-chin. How can I show my fat face in public, let alone that public?
Do you know why I love writing this blog? I actually thought each and every one of those things this morning. Sometimes you need to get it out of your brain and onto a page to see how ridiculous and absurd it all is. If I go out tonight, that's great. If I don't, that's fine too. Whatever I do, it won't be dictated by one freaking pound. Well, 1.27 freaking pounds, but who's counting?! I'm going to eat today, because that's healthy. I'm going to drink a lot of water today, because it's healthy. I'm going to resist the urge to weigh myself for a while and focus on how I'm feeling, because it's healthy. I'm going to carry this extra 1.27 pounds around with me today and everything is going to be absolutely fine. I'm fine. It's fine. I'm healthy.