Fuck You Fat.

I don't know what else can elicit simultaneous feelings of determination/motivation as well as heart-break/disgusted.  Only one thing can:  trying on last years "fat shorts" only to find that they are all too small.  Holy fuck that sucks.

::raises hand:: This is me right now.

In the midst of making the positive changes, making what feels like progress (even on the scale! -4lbs), and then I get punched in the stomach.  Hard.  Take my breath away and sink to my knees in pain hard.  Talk about discouragement.  Talk about embarrassment.  Talk about feeling like a failure.

And in the same breath, it is the most motivating thing that has happened to me in about a week.  I refuse to be like this, to surrender to the feelings of failure and self-doubt.  I will not yield to this devil.  This devil will be beaten -- no no no.  His ass is about to get WHOO'PED.  Devil, you think that can stop me?! HAH!  You clearly don't know me.

This makes me even more proud of myself for having gotten up at 430am to go workout this morning.  To have killed it at Bikini Boot Camp with the girls this morning.  To have been dripping with sweat and sprawled on the floor by the end.  That's right.  I committed murder this morning -- OF MY FAT CELLS!

And yes, it will not be an instant change.  And yes, I am struggling.  BUT I WILL DO THIS.  For myself.  For Daniel.  For my health.  For my future.  For the weddings I will attend this summer.  For my wedding next year.  For pride.  For confidence.  To prove that I can do it.  Again.  To achieve that healthy lifestyle where I enjoy working out and where I don't crave sweets and junk food.  I WILL DO THIS.

Get ready Devil.  You done drawn the last straw.  I will not get abused by your negativity any longer. Fuck off, fat.

And with my new tankini on hand, you won't stop me from going to the beach either.  Even if I am that girl -- the beached whale.