It's a new day

243.8. That's what the scale at Weight Watchers said. I think it was high (as in smoking some weed), but I guess I need to come to grips with reality. I am losing. I am doing it. I'm working out. I'm drinking water (still not enough). I'm eating better. I'm thinking more positively. And I joined Weight Watchers. Goddamn Weight Watchers. Everyone says, "the meetings are better!" But I never believed them. I thought I could do it on my own. I thought I could make it. I probably could have done it, but I didn't want to anymore. So now I go. I felt like I was in church. I feel accountable. I feel...good. I started my gym membership last Saturday. Since then I've gone five days in a row. Three days I did 1 1/2 hours, two days I did only 1 hour. I think it's going well. It IS going well. I'm actually starting to like it. I like that I'm leading a healthier life. Dad would be proud of me. It makes me so angry when I think of Peter and all those girls he's fucked. I want to be the one. I want to be the one that people look at and say, "damn, she's hot." I want to wear clothes that don't come with a number before the X. I want to wear cute pants and shirts that are clingy (and don't show my rolls). I can do this. It's only a little time out of my day. It's a lifestyle. I want to keep up with Peter. I want to outrun Peter. I want his clothes to be big on me. I'll get there. One baby step at a time. Tonight was a giant leap. I'm proud.