Saw 125, then had to go away for a few days which included specially-laid-on trip to Chinatown and old favourite Italian ice-cream shop in Soho. Felt calm though, knowing that purging was completely out of the question, so I dug deep, mentally shrugged and found some shreds of self-control. Managed to get rid of lots of my little icecream geberously handing it round for tasting so avoided the self-loathing and fuck-it attitude that usually brings.
Also, was walking about with size (UK) 10 jeans trailing off me, literally falling off without being undone. I might be ready for an 8, but I have never ever been that small and it feels like such a huge step. Do I really deserve to be so small and not covered in this disgusting lard that gives me an excuse to hide and explain away why I am so hard to love? I am actually afraid. It turns out that actually losing weight is not really this issue here...
Amazing comment about husband and family reactions to my loss from the incredibly intelligent and perceptive Medica - there is something changing, inside you and on the outside, and they were not involved in the decision making. It´s a little bit about control, too, don´t you think?
Oh yes, in every single way.