World's worst blogger

I am. I think. If not, I should be. Is there an award for that kind of thing? I'd like an award. For something.

These are the kinds of things I ponder as I sit here enjoying a Snackwell's devil's food cookie and a half cup of skim milk. Chocolate...manna from heaven.

I'm either very imaginative or bored. Of course, I prefer to believe I'm the former, but the correct answer is probably that I'm the latter. Which sucks because that makes me think I should be doing something productive. However, it's too gorgeous a day to worry about silly things like dusting or rearranging the living room furniture for the umpteen kazillionith time.

Anyhow, here I am, still slowly lap-banding my way to my goal weight. Sometimes the 50 pounds I have left to lose seem like they'll never leave, but then I'll stumble across a picture of me taken a year or more ago and voila! I feel proud of how far I've come. My gosh, but was I really that big? Yes, sadly I was.

Here's what's really neat: I've reached the point in my journey where, for the most part anyhow, I feel good about myself and my appearance. This spring found me shopping for an entirely new wardrobe, right down to the jammies, because I'd undergrown literally everything I owned. My wonderful hubby never grumbled, not a bit. He's as proud of me as I am, and bless him for it, but he loves seeing me all gussied up. Yes, "gussied". It's a southern thang.

I know we're not supposed to let our self-esteem get tangled up in our weight, but the truth of the matter is that it does. As I lose weight it becomes easier to treat myself. Yes, that moisturizer is expensive, but it works, and hey, I'm worth it. Oo la la, but those shoes are to die for, and you know what? I'm worth it. A short, spiky hairstyle I'd been daydreaming about becomes a reality and, who knew? but it looks good! And throw in some highlighs for good measure...I'm worth it.

Something occurred to me recently. I joined FaceBook and started hearing from people I'd gone to high school with, "back in the day". I realized that even then, even when I was young and slender, I never felt worth much of anything. So maybe it's not so much about the weight loss, this willingness to treat myself to those little extras. Maybe it's about the way losing weight makes me feel. In control. Self-sufficient. Aware. Capable. STRONG. Maybe not beautiful, not yet, but certainly attractive; at least, more attractive than I've ever felt, and that's in spite of the inevitable signs of aging, those wrinkles and sags and bags that makeup can't disguise and exercise can't conquer.

These may be small steps forward, but at least forward is the right way to go.