a thousand little wars i have to choose between

This weekend was one of the best in the recent weeks and also a bit difficult. It was one of the best because we had fancy date night, spent time with friends, and started shopping for Christmas decorations. But it was the end of a week long struggle with weight loss, injury, and exercise.

Saturday night, we dressed up. My husband wore a tie, and I wore both eyeshadow and eyeliner. I may have even put on some lipstick, and he bought new shoes. It was a big deal, and I loved every minute of it. Before leaving the house, we had my father-in-law snap a few pictures.

Looking at those pictures, I have a hard time recognizing myself. My waist looks small and my face thinner. It's not the girl I see when I look in the mirror or the girl I saw on Sunday at Kohl's while trying on clothes that didn't quite fit.

I had a choice on Sunday. It was a choice of how to respond to the clothes that didn't fit at Kohl's.

I was sad. And mad. And frustrated. And mad at myself again. And disappointted.

But those emotions did not have to define what my response would be. It was my choice to define my response. There was a part of me that wanted to eat. A part of me that thought that it just wasn't worth trying so hard some weeks and not so hard other weeks. A part of me that felt like it was time to give up.

There was another part of me, though, that knew that choice would be the wrong one. So I chose to do the best I could and remind myself that I would not give up. I took to twitter then.

I can't say I was perfect Sunday night, but rather than eat comfort food like I wanted to (pizza, pasta, and bread--oh my!), I had some leftovers and a small velveeta macaroni and cheese. And then I finished dinner off with some Skinny Cow ice cream. Not perfect but a much better than anything smothered in cheese, fried, or greasy.

I'm still dealing with recognizing myself. Pants that once barely fit are now too loose. Shirts I once loved I can no longer wear because they fall of me. And all the while, I have no idea what size fits me or what sort of clothes I should wear with this new body I find myself in.

I did well on Monday. Making healthy choices. Tracking everything. Drinking lots of water. Skipping out on the wonder that is Starbuck's Gingerbread Lattes. Getting a lower calorie sandwich from Panera Bread instead of a delicious, hot, melty panini.

And I worked out on Monday too. I had plans to work out over the weekend, but between barely being able to walk Sunday and working Saturday morning, I rested at home rather than sweating on the elliptical or surviving a spin class.

Breaking a sweat Monday felt good. Great even. I pounded out two miles on the elliptical - a mixture of speed and incline. Then I pushed myself with heavier lifting and finished with some ab work. I know strength training and more intense cardio is the way to go but getting out of my comfort zone - moving away from someone telling me what to do or just using the machines - is daunting.

You know what else is daunting? Never fitting into a smaller size. Always seeing the girl from Kohl's in the mirror. And it's not daunting in a good way. So that's why I am going to remember all the reason why I need to get back on track and just do it.

(title from "strip me" by natasha bedingfield)