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Limbo...Again

It's 3 a.m. on a school night. I'm still awake. I'm still writing. I'm still trying to figure out if I have another pair of pants I can wear to work tomorrow so I don't have to take the time to shave my legs.

Therein lies the problem. I can't seem to find any clothes. Over the last year, my hindquarters have swollen like they've been eating too many pretzels and peanuts. I own two pairs of pants that somewhat fit me. I really don't want to shave my legs.

This is not a new problem. I've been aware of my decreasing wardrobe for a few months now, but until I faced this leg shaving dilemma, it just didn't seem like *that* big of a deal. On top of that, I've been trying to get pregnant for the last year, so losing weight wasn't a huge priority for me.

So here I am. Naked. Childless. Alone.

And unhappy.

I know that we're supposed to look on the inside and cultivate gratitude for our lives, but the truth is that I just don't feel comfortable in my own skin right now. I feel detached from my own life, and this doesn't feel good.

So while I'm waiting on this baby...while I'm preparing to graduate in May...while I'm re-establishing myself as one of the best damn freelance writers in the U.S...while I'm starting to work in my art studio...while I'm waiting to marry the love of my life...

I have to find myself again.

She's buried here under layers of fat and denial and neglect. Tonight I've been going through my history, trying to figure out what's the best plan for losing the weight, and an interesting pattern emerged. I've lost weight on just about everything I've ever tried, but it seems that I cannot lose weight as long as my focus is only on losing weight.

After my divorce, I remember the freedom I found in just letting myself be. It was in that freedom that I found myself writing again. In that freedom I started running.

The key is finding that place again where I feel like me.

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