The #1 Killer of Self-Esteem

This morning I woke up, and, like most mornings, stepped on the digital scale in my bathroom. Ugh… who really enjoys that? Even if the number is lower than it was yesterday, it’s still not low enough. If the number is higher… let’s not go there. Luckily, this morning the scale had good news: yesterday’s exercise paid off. Encouraged by the loss of a few pounds, I decided to keep up the trend. I spent 10 boring minutes on my elliptical, followed by sit-ups. That doesn’t sound like much, but it’s usually enough to keep the pounds melting, in my case.

In the afternoon, I went to the mall with my cousins Genna and JJ. This was more exercise, walking for miles though shiny halls full of goodies. We were looking for dresses, actually. Cousin Tony is getting married in September, and my friend Andrea’s wedding is in November. I’ve made up my mind to look absolutely stunning at both events.

I found a beautiful dress at Lord & Taylor. It looked perfect. My cousins agreed. We sent a picture to James, who also loved it. But, almost inevitably, it wouldn’t zip all the way. This is the problem with dress shopping. You find something perfect… but it doesn’t zip. And they didn’t have any bigger sizes.

I’m usually pretty happy with the way I look. I never think much about it. Leave it to dress shopping to bring out all of my insecurities. Really, why should I care about my weight? I think I’m beautiful (usually), and James is crazy about me. What more is there? The only reason I really care is for dress shopping. Shopping would be so much more fun if more clothes fit.

Leaving the mall empty handed, we went out to dinner. I decided I was going to get a salad. I couldn’t let all that walking go to waste. It was all going to be great. Enter Don Pablo. Mexican food is my biggest weakness. I ordered fajitas, thinking that chicken and veggies would be safe. Pile on three tortillas and guacamole. I was completely stuffed. I feel like my day is completely blown to pieces.

Maybe I’m exaggerating. It was a lot of food, but it wasn’t so bad for me. At least we didn’t have dessert. Regardless, I am completely terrified of my scale. I don’t want to see the number in the morning. I don’t want to see all my work gone to waste.

Maybe it won’t be so bad. Maybe I’ll be encouraged enough to continue with my work-out routine. The worst thing I could do is give up.

I really want that dress.

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