Broke

Today, I left school--I only have one French class on Wednesday--I took off for my favorite comfort food spot, a local Pho. As I was sitting there over my steaming bowl, I sure did appreciate my decision to come. But about a third of the bowl later, I realized I was full, yet I kept eating. It was just a thought that passed on by, with almost no notice at all. I wasn't even hungry when I started. It was a sad realization. I sat there, wondering--when did this break in me? When did I start ignoring the fact that I was full? When did it start not mattering? Cause here I am, a third of the way through the semester, and I have nothing to show for it physically. The size 16 jeans are too tight still, the pile of 14 I need to be wearing (if you recall, the husband gave away all my long jeans and now all I have left is a bunch of 16 capris) are still sitting on the shelf, inanimate. And my trainer at the gym--I missed my appointment with him, it's been days, and I haven't called back.

On the upside, I worked out six times last week, really pounding away at the Wii. I'm hoping for a payoff. But I'm also faced with the fact that as long as I have all this extra weight hanging on me, I will have a feeling of incompletion. Why? Because how can I say I have succeeded in this world without having first succeeded with myself?