How happily I sit here this morning eating my yogurt in a new decade of numbers. Farewell 270s! I hope to never see your ugly face again. I’m so close to being the weight at which I had known myself for such a long time. 265lbs, it looms over me. I can’t even imagine how I will feel passing it. The real weight at which I will feel in uncharted territory is under 235 but that is so far away that I can’t even think about that yet. I can’t believe how close I am to 265lbs, though. It’s such a landmark number for me. It’s where I was before my accident, before the probervial shit hit the fan this last time.

It almost feels like as I hit each landmark number that’s I’m reversing the damage of past events associated with each weight. I think I’ve counted my life by my weight. At 235lbs I graduated high school, at 291lbs I accepted that there was something fundamentally wrong and started the process of trying to heal without large expectations on myself. At 265lbs I came out of the first depression and started to really live… for a while. At 140lbs I left ballet. I have a weight rather than an age for each of those major events. It’s time for that to change.

At the end of this, I hope that I will no longer count my life by my weight. My goal isn’t necessarily for a goal weight, but for a thin, strong, healthy body with which I can count my years and achievements and experiences. I want my weight to no longer be the defining factor. I’ve gotten past the first twelve weeks but I have a long way to go.