One day down....and thousands more to go. I awoke this morning feeling proud. It's been so long since I treated myself well for an entire day. Not treatment of the manicure/pedicure variety but rather with kind words to myself, smart food choices, and not tearing at my soul at the end of the night.
Some nights I look at my reflection in the mirror and say the cruelest things. I've done this for years....as child I would actually scratch at my face or pinch the skin between my fingers and just cry. Cry because I ate, cry because I didn't know what I hungered for.
I don't want to feel that emptiness and weakness anymore. I want to feel strong...not because I'm perfect...but because I am forgiving. There are few phrases that run in my mind that I would actually tell a friend. They are harsh and mean and merciless. I have to forgive myself for the mounds of flesh that I've allowed to grown around my body. Soft piles of cheesecakes, cookies, quesadillas and sandwiches that have adhered to my hips and thighs and belly.
Strength starts with movement for me. I'm off to walk along the beach, go up and down some stairs, feel the salty ocean breeze in my face.
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