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I’ve been thinking that I should get another progress shot of myself in the mirrors of 30 Hudson, because I won’t be here much longer. So when I saw myself in the mirrored window on the train platform this morning, I thought I’d get a shot of me from behind.

Ugh. Man, that t-shirt is not flattering to me. Guess I should stick with black for a while yet. Black is slimmin’!

It’s at times like this when I can’t help but think in negative terms about my accomplishment: “I’m almost halfway toward my weight goal. So I was twice as fat as this?? Damn!”

But I’m only dabbling in that mode of thought, not succumbing to it, and here’s proof. See the shirt I’m wearing in the other shot? I haven’t worn it in a long time. I pulled it out of the closet this morning, tried it on, and deemed it just barely wearable.

I’m proud to be wearing it, but here’s what really has me jazzed: I didn’t decide to put it on in order to embarrass myself into losing weight, as I might well have done two months ago. I put it on because I liked the idea of feeling it go from snug to loose in the coming months. I wasn’t focusing masochistically on how snug it was; I was focusing positively on how much less snug it would become!

I’m healing. Thank goodness, I’m healing.


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