I resist change. I resist doing the right thing.
I am tired of having this extra weight on me, even though I suspect I am as healthy as I need to be, that I don't really need to lose any more to gain in health. I look at the softness of my stomach and try to see it as something beautiful, something warm and feminine and me, but I resist it. I look at the sagginess under my arms and think that if I lost some more weight maybe that would be enough, that would make it possible for me to wear sleeveless tops without fear. . . yet i will open a bag of popcorn or fix a peanut butter and jelly sandwich before going to bed, all along telling myself this is the way to no way. I resist the work it takes, at least part of the time, enough of the time, so that I remain in this one place, treading water, spinning a wheel, noticing a little gain in strength now and then but it's not enough. I don't know if I am making any sense but I don't have to, not here.