Wouldn't It Be Nice If I Could Melt Myself Like Ice Or Outrun My Skin And Just Be Pure Wind

This picture was taken the night of my company Christmas party but because my camera cable was MIA, I couldn't upload it until today. It marks the 8-month countdown to our wedding. I'm posting it as motivation. This is what I look like in December. In August? In August my arms will not be flabby. I will not have chipmunk cheeks. I will get my eyebrows waxed by a professional for the first time. S will stop slouching (I look like a giant next to him in this picture but in real life he towers over me by about 6 inches.)

I am not usually so image-obsessed. I go through phases of dissatisfaction with various parts of my body (I'm a woman - I won't apologize) but I've never felt so utterly disgusted with how I look. It's no coincidence that I've also never been as inactive as I've been in the past few months. The wedding will be fabulous if I am wearing a size 2 or a size 12. I will be happy if my arms are toned and muscular or if they are flabby and wing-like. S loves me and my chipmunk cheeks and multiple chins. I know all this and yet ... in my twisted way of thinking, I've convinced myself that I will be happier, the wedding will be better, S will love me more if I lose 10 pounds / tone up the flab / grow my hair / cut my hair, etc. I am suffering from a case of the crazy.

It goes without saying that any form of weight loss plan will not go into effect until after Christmas. I have no will power under normal circumstances and Christmastime in our family is anything but normal circumstances. Not only because of crazy family stress but also because of the stupid amounts of Christmas baking that goes on. I haven't eaten a proper meal in days, unless dipping shortbread and oranges in melted chocolate counts as a proper meal. I wish I lived in a world where chocolate-dipped shortbread and orange slices were considered a balanced diet.