MIA, L-B's and F

MIA – Missing In Action

I know I’ve been missing in action lately. I’m still working, still striving to be a better, healthier, more active person, and for the most part I’m succeeding. My mother’s birthday, and Mother’s Day really threw me for a loop this year, and knocked me a bit off track. As some of you know, on June 1, 2009, my dear mother passed away. It’s been almost four years, and I’m still dealing with her loss every day. I missed her especially this year.  I spent several days not really caring what I ate, and not working out at all. I realized how very hard it is to resist “eating my feelings”, when all I really wanted to do was gorge myself on ice cream and spaghetti. 

I wasn’t that bad. Just a little bad. I’ve forgiven myself, and moved on.

L-B’s – slang for Pounds

At my last weigh-in, late Monday morning, I was down to 255.8, bringing my total weight loss to 16.2 L-B’s. I’d like to get in the 240’s by the end of June, but we’ll see how it goes. This is a marathon, not a race, and I’m pacing myself. It would be nice for the L-B’s to melt right off, but I’m realistic. And optimistic. 

F – My Bra Size

Or so I’ve been told. I have very large breasts, and finding a bra is a NIGHTMARE for me. I recently went to Lane Bryant on a whim, and they were having a special promotion which included a bra fitting and a buy one, get one ½ off deal. 

I was measured.

At first the news was good. I had lost 4” under The Girls! How cool is that? Then… the cup size, which this very nice girl figured as an F. An effing F (seriously, I didn’t think they were THAT big). I proceeded to the bra section, where every color in the rainbow was displayed. There were push-ups, under-wires, padded, and wire-free. The selection was seemingly endless and exciting.  I started searching for just the right size, feeling exhilarated – finally I was going to purchase a bra that fit! 

I came to discover that there were four bras in the whole effing F section that were my size. And none of them fit. I was being pushed up so far that I could honestly rest my chin on the overage. One I crammed in the entire side boob, there was nowhere for The Girls to go but up. I could have applied lip gloss without my hands. I was devastated. 

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Some of you may be wondering what the moral is to this post. It’s simple. They are just letters. They don’t really mean anything.

I’m not defined by MIA, L-B’s, or F – I’m defined by who I am inside, how I feel about myself, and how I act towards others. I cannot let my absence from this forum get me down, or my lack of discipline, or my enormous bra size. I can no longer sabotage my success with these letters, and I won’t ever do it again. 

I promise.