Dean frowns when he sees me getting ready. “You’re too skinny.”
I grin from ear-to-ear. “Suhweet!”
I started running again, logging several miles a day. I’m searching for a race to run. I found the perfect one–a half marathon that crosses the Golden Gate Bridge, but it’s at 7am on November 1st. Who wants to sleep early on Halloween night. That’s a total downer. I didn’t intend to start racing again. It just happened. I got a gym membership so I could get away from the studio if I needed personal space. Then I got bored marinating in the steam room day after day. So back on the treadmill I went…huff, huff, huff. I liked that after a bad day at work, I could run speedily and chase the worry away. I used to run a lot when I dated rampantly. Whenever I got dumped (which was often), my pace improved. I had visions of the Boston Marathon.
Now that I started running again, the weight is dropping steadily. That’s not good. As a former anorexic, I got to a place in my life where I was finally comfortable with how I looked, with how much I weighed. But I like losing the weight. It makes me feel empowered, all 80 pounds of me.
‘I may not sport a thousand dollar dress on my wedding day, but at least I’ll be skinny.’ It’s sadistic thinking.
I try to counter the weight loss with ‘healthy’ eating. Today, for example, I had:
M&M and Chocolate Chip Cookie
then pizza tonight for Marc’s birthday, but I’m so hungry I’ll probably eat beforehand.
I wish there wasn’t all this pressure around a wedding. Sure, it doesn’t have to be this way. But how may brides out there really funded their own wedding without parental support, without their husbands footing the majority of the bills? I doubt very many.