I’ve spent an inordinate amount of time lately thinking about my weight. Scratch that. I’ve spent an inordinate amount of my life thinking about my weight. The only time in my life that I’ve ever felt comfortable with my body is when I was hiking the AT. So let’s see, since I became aware of my weight in the third grade, I’ve been happy with myself for…a whooping 4 months of my life. Wow, that’s sad. Think of all the time I’ve wasted hating my body, and all the things I could have done instead.

I’ve made a decision, I want this past weekend to be the last event where I spend the whole night worried about how I look. I don’t want to spend time in another hotel bathroom berating myself while I could be busting a move on the dance floor. I promise not to talk about it too much here, because how annoying is the person who goes on and on about how she looks (seriously, its half of the reason I want to lose weight, I’m annoying myself and everyone else around me)?

So here is my goal, by my 31st birthday in November, I want to lose 21 pounds.

I figure, putting it out there so I feel some internet peer pressure worked for the half-marathon, so hopefully it will work again. Because I’m tired of hating what I see when I look in the mirror. After 30 years, I’m boring everyone.

Update: I just reread this post.  I’m having a hard time putting my thoughts into words, but I feel like this post makes it sound like I think losing weight will solve my problems, which trust me, I know it won’t.  Really, I just want to be happy with myself, and if I’m unhappy, I want it to be for reasons less superficial.  I want to feel comfortable in my own skin, to stop wasting my time and energy on negative thoughts, and to be proactive about something that makes me feel insecure.   Does that make sense?  Hello?  Is this thing on?