Many times I have said to myself, “This is the last straw. You have to get your weight under control.” This state is usually shortly followed by, “Mmm… Vanilla Coke… glug.”

This leads me to ponder the question, how many straws are left? Is someone refilling my proverbial straws? Jerks.

Maybe I’m refilling them every time I get down to the last straw and don’t do anything about it. It isn’t actually as though as I’ve never tried to do anything about my weight, but I haven’t been able to sustain anything long enough to make a difference nor have I ever really lost any weight. I have never had the privilege of watching the numbers on the scale go down. I’m dying to see that happen (literally, I suppose).

I’ve started reading other weight loss blogs, some of which with women who had more weight to lose than me and lost it, and maintained it. It can happen. It is possible. There is hope for my big fat butt shelf! Ahem… and the rest of me.

I’ve always been a pessimist. I’ve never actually believed that I would ever be different. Sure, I always visualized myself different, but never actually thought it would happen. There was the me that I had to live with on a daily basis and then the true me, err, the me in my imagination that I was sure everyone else saw too. Ah, the power of self delusion.

This me was a thin and fearless version of me. I am now much more fearless than I ever was, but I am certainly not thinner than I ever was. I am quite the opposite. For once, though, I am not pessimistic about weight loss. I’ve read other stories of women like me, even those about the same age, who have lost the weight, kept it off, and are all the happier for it.

My attitude was not any more optimistic for others than it was for myself. When my friends or acquaintances would tell me about their weight loss attempts I would just nod politely in inside think that it was pointless and futile. I’m a douche, I know. I don’t feel this way anymore, though. For once I feel the possibility.

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