I spent my summer in crocs.

I spent my summer begging the sun to toast my skin.

I spent my summer rolling silverware. Polishing wine glasses.

I spent my summer sorting plates in a dish pit.

I spent my summer in a sweaty gym.

I spent my summer with John.

I spent my summer on a scale.

I spent my summer changing the unchangable.

I spent my summer planning her wedding.

I spent my summer fighting weakness.

I spent my summer getting to know a boy, avoiding the inevitable.

I spent my summer counting money.

I spent my summer in a chef coat.

I spent my summer with my hair up.

I spent my summer painting my nails.

I spent my summer avoiding graduation.

I spent my summer missing friends.

I spent my summer getting away.

I spent my summer doing lunges.

I spent my summer fighting tears.

I spent my summer driving: island, to mainland, and back.

I spent my summer learning the words to a song i'll never sing.

I spent my summer searching for protein.

I spent my summer finding style.

I broke through layers. I became myself more quickly. I let him in. I let them all in.

I spent my summer introducing my myself: Mariela, like Cinderella.

my ittie-bittie black bridesmaid dress fits.

(not great, but the zipper is up.)

Two-a-day's til next friday, just to be safe.

I (God and John the Trainer) did it.

"Proud" doesn't even come close.

Next stop: the big reveal.

In the words of Carrie Bradshaw, the queen of shoemances: "Hello, lover."You don't understand: these shoes represent me. This is my 100th post, and it's dedicated to this amazing pair of genius that i tried on at Gauchos last sunday. not only are they $134.99, but they are rubber. and gold. and don't match anything in my wardrobe. but something about these shoes makes me feel i'd be a better woman if i owned them, not to mention how many miles they add to my legs. i'm not one to splurge on frivolous accessories, but honestly, i'd do something illegal to pay for a pair of Vivienne Westwood "Dragon Lady"s.

today, i'll listen to this song 100 times.
i'll sulk and have a pity party for myself:
the girl that doesn't get it all,
the girl with epically bad timing,
the girl that's back where she started.

It's safe to say we both could use this fire escape,
cause i've been breathing ashes in.

I'm stronger than i ever thought i would get

(its not just the lunges and bicep curls).

It's the kind of strength John warned me would build

beyond every rep i sweat in that gym.

The only thing harder than

shaking the undulation rope

is believing that i can.

"Ignore the pain!", he yells."This is easy!"

Every ounce of me wants to quit.

Every mucle in my body has walked away

5 minutes in

but there i am--squatting, sitting-up, stepping up, jabbing--

repeating that it's worth it.

15 pounds.

It's coming off slow.

But i'm not afraid of weigh-ins,

or anything, really.

I'm happy.

I'm happy.

And just like that, it all fell into place.