Well, this weekend we reached a milestone. By we, I mean me. I stepped on that horrible horrible monster (the scale) and saw a number I haven't seen since before Joey.
I am back to pre pregnancy weight. Woo. Hooo.
So what does this mean? Not much actually. I thought I would be much much more celebratory and excited about it, but ehh, not really. I still ask Rick everyday, most times multiple times a day, if I look fat, if my ass looks rounder, if my face is chubby, if this, if that, fat fat fat. Its exhausting. So exhausting that I didn't have enough energy to do my "I am 125 pounds, in your face pregnancy weight" dance. The very dance I have been practicing and hoping for for almost a year.
So what gives?!
What the hell is the point in obessing about this for so long and then STILL thinking I am fat when I've reached the very number that I have been holding above my head for a year.
WOMEN. ARE. EFFING. CRAZY.
That's it. That has to be it.
What a rip off.