(I am apparently going to do a lot of make-up work this weekend. Which is fine, I already kind of knew that.)
One of the reasons I'm blogging so steadily about losing weight is because I'm trying to keep it out of my real-time interactions. Losing weight is a constant activity. I'm not just sitting here, typing (when I should be scheduling), I'm sitting here typing and not eating. And that takes effort. Not particularly soul-killing effort, not now, not today, but still, my weight is on my mind. It has to be.
It's also a really big deal for me. I've spent most of my life blaming things in my life on being fat, blaming my fat on me, making tidy little shame spirals to fall into. I have set up in my mind that being fat is the One Thing that keeps me from having the life I want. By losing weight, I gain access to all those things the fat kept me away from. And, rationally, I know this isn't so. But we're not talking about reason here. We're talking about fat. So even though yesterday I accomplished some awesome things at work, what I came home proud of is the number on the scale that morning.
On the other hand, I really don't want this to be What I Talk About. It's repetitive. It's problematic. It's boring. I mean, people use "talking about the weather" as the epitome of the thing you say when there's nothing to say, but at least the weather is something that everyone shares in. (Also, few things affect me as pervasively as the weather does—it colors everything that happens every day—so, yeah, kinda big deal for me.) And unlike my internet dating obsession, losing weight doesn't generate anything I can turn into an amusing anecdote. I have introspection, I have soapboxes galore. And so I have this blog.