We're looking at progress, I swear it.

Tonight, the scale said 380.  I'm claiming that single pound like it's 100.  One pound less means there is hope. One pound less means I may not end up a bedridden walrus. One pound less means I may live to feel aches and pains because I'm old enough to just have aches and pains.

That's all good stuff! 

I can't describe the depression that weaves itself through cellulite.  Every pound gone is a little less stress, pressure, negativity, hurt, or self loathing than there was before.  Obesity is weakness, laziness, inferiority, heartache, and fear.  

Tonight I did the stationary bike for 30 minutes! At 5 minutes I told myself 10 would be good enough. At 10 I looked over and saw that Jen had 10 left on her bike and decided to push to 20.  At 15 I decided the numb butt disease was better than the dead butt disease.  At 20 I realized I was only 10 away from my original goal. At 21 Jen said she knew I could do it.  At 22 I leaned forward and just stared at my arms jiggling with the simple displacement of energy, despite being held perfectly still, and made that the reason to finish.  At 25 I concentrated on the fact that my belly is so big that my legs hit it pushing my gut back in on itself with every rotation.  That got me to 30. 

Accomplish what you can.