I mean, I would have liked my arrival into the 250s to be more lion than lamb, but I really can’t complain. 259. Such a small/huge change.  Now that I know my body is physically capable of weighing less than 260 lbs, I have in my possession a kind of guarded optimism. An optimism I really need to hold onto since I’ll be launched a new experiment today.

 

While I’m going to stick to the diet, and hopefully get better at it as my body falls back into the swing of eating on a regular basis, there’s larger, more pressing issue that demands my attention: I drink too much goddamn Diet Coke. I think part of the reason that I haven’t been eating, aside from general stress, is that I’ve been substituting meals with the brown horse. This stops today. Well, stopped today. I got a bunch of weird looks this morning when I went outside and ceremoniously poured out the last bottle of the fizz on the ground (for my homies). The weird looks were probably more about the fact that I was crying then they were about me pouring an entire bottle of soda onto the street, but that’s irrelevant. No more soda, for two weeks.  I think this is going to be harder than the scale, by far.