I stop to pray. A lot.
I've realized my need for Him
and how. much. better. life is when
it's not up to me.
I make myself run because TURKEY TROT.
I deep clean things. Often.
Close friends feel farther away
and family can't get here soon enough.
I've been researching costume ideas
for all the parties I'm not attending.
I wear the same tan flats every day.
Every. Day.
I've become grossly aware of how much I sweat
when in stressful situations (i.e. interviews).
Any excuse to give my hair one more day is
the perfect excuse.
I daydream about the kind of aunt I'll be,
the kind of flyer miles this baby is gonna get me,
and how incredibly far I am from ever having my own.
My skin has gotten it's act together.
I don't feel the need to wear a mask of foundation.
My moisturizer is the most expensive thing in my make-up bag.
I fill up my tank in case I want to skip town.
I do that thing where I avoid getting groceries
(because spending $7 on every meal feels less painful than
spending $50 at once.)
Loving myself feels less conditional.
Loving others seems less challenging.
Because lately, I care less about random expressed opinions
and more about what the people that actually love me have to say about my
character.
(Adulthood, amirite?)
I teeter on the edges of confidence and self-improvement and
salted-caramel-mochas ON A WEEKDAY. WHAT.
My room is in a permanent state of "that's where my DIY project is gonna go..
when I do it..
next weekend."
I shamelessly self-promote:
www.marielalaura.com

23.5 pounds.

More Mrs. Dash. More cabbage. More water.

The feeling of bad-assery is at an all-time high.

On Sunday, I get to eat cheese and peanut butter and GO TO HOT YOGA.

Also. CHEESE.

I can't believe I did it. In fact, I don't.

I believe some other person came and lived in my body and made unrealistic goals for the real me.
And then...proved that it can be done.
That self-control is hard, but not impossible.
That being accountable for your bad habits is humbling, but not degrading.
That admitting you need help because you've lost control is a part of bridging the gap between
here
and
where you'd rather be
and you can't get there until you do.

Turns out:
30 days is what it really takes to
change.
Really change.

18 pounds down.