I don't even know what to say.
Or how to start this post.
So bare with me, I'm just going to write.
Have you ever had one of those moments where reality slapped you across the face?
It just happened.
And now, I'm sitting on my bed (in my PJs), alone, trying to wade through the feelings.
Shock, denial. Pity. Embarrassment. More denial. Confusion. More embarrassment.
I know we are our own worst critics.
I get that.
But a picture is worth a 1000 words.
And this one (or these ones) were bad.
Like I can't even bring myself to post them, so bad.
I'm not going to lie. I've avoided mirrors for a while.
Other than my itty, bitty compact mirror that I use to see my face close up when doing my make up.
I wear a lot of hats, or messy buns, or pony tails.
I have successfully avoided myself going on the last 9 months (since I had Madison).
And then tonight happened.
I saw a picture of what I look like in this moment, at this weight.
And I cried.
That's not me.
That's not what I picture myself looking like.
That's not who I was a year and a half ago.
Who is this person?
How do I get me back?
You may be reading this and thinking, 'geez...it's all about the weight', right?
Well you'd be wrong.
I saw more than the extra 50 pounds I've packed on in the pregnancy (and since kept on).
I saw a sadness in my eyes in a moment I thought I was happy.
I see frustration.
Frustration that I keep quitting on myself. That I keep giving myself "outs."
No more outs.
No more valid excuses.
It has to change.
Because if you don't make a change, you are just going to continue getting the same results.
Tonight my head changes.
I'm not giving up on this journey to find me.
I know I'm in there.
I know I'm worth fighting for.
Now comes the scary part...