Ten years of being the funny big friend, the one who never said no to seconds. And honestly? I liked my life. I liked my body fine. Then my yearly physical in January came back with a couple of numbers my doctor circled twice, and I sat in the parking lot for twenty minutes before I could drive home. Not because I was scared exactly — because I realized I'd been avoiding looking at anything for a long time.
So since Feb 3 it's been boring stuff: 8,000 steps five days a week, sparkling water instead of the afternoon soda, actual protein at breakfast instead of just coffee. Seven weeks in, down 14 pounds, and the jeans from 2022 button again without the lie-down-on-the-bed trick.
The part nobody warned me about: I don't miss the old version of me, I miss not thinking about food all day. Does the mental math ever quiet down for you all? I'm still counting everything twice.