you gotta fight.

dear self,

you stood up for yourself the other night, and it felt good. usually, you like to do whatever necessary to keep the peace. or, whatever it takes to make sure people keep liking you. which isn't always the best decision.

so don't forget how it feels to tell people how you really feel.

xoxo,

me

three months.

dear self,

you complain about being fat. a lot. the thing is, it's not the same as complaining about being tall or fair skinned or having a head full of curly hair. those are the things that make you you. but your weight? you have control. you have the choice to put down the chicken finger or say no to a cookie (or three). you have a car to drive yourself to the gym, and hell, you even have a membership! so when you have to unbutton your pants at the end of the day because they are uncomfortable, or you avoid mirrors because you don't like what you see, you have no right. none.

so this is what i'm asking of you, of me. three months. for three months, take control. think before you eat, and have some respect for yourself. this self depreciating attitude is getting you nowhere but deeper and deeper into a hole that has consumed you for the last two years. climb, scrape, and by gosh put down that cookie and find the light of day.

for three months, go to the gym. take a walk. and pray to the good Lord for some self control. if in three months you miss stuffing your face with fries and crying yourself to sleep at night because you hate what you've become, i give you full permission to go back to your slothful lifestyle.

three months. on your mark, get set, go.