By all accounts, today should be fantastic. I finally got the nerve up to send Jack a W.I.D.T.H. picture for his blog, I exchanged e-mails with Ben about my nerves and the weather predicament for tomorrow's race, and I noticed how little my reflection is becoming as I went to the grocery store to restock my fridge with fruits and veggies for this week.
The sun is shining. There's a cool breeze. And everything in my life is fantastic right now. I look good. I feel great. There is so much love in my life, from my family and my friends and my awesome blog community. Every day, I feel so hopeful and positive - even when I struggle, I feel loved and supported.
Walking back from the grocery store, I stood on the curb waiting for a light to change so I could cross the street. A brown car full of young men turned a quick corner, windows down.
"Fat bitch!"My iPod was on, but not loud enough that I couldn't hear it. I kept my cool until I got home, where I dropped my bags on the kitchen floor and then went into my office to sob.

Do jerks have x-ray vision? Because while my bags were mostly full of fresh spinach, mushrooms, zucchini, blueberries, apples, tomatoes, and an onion ... there was also a bag of white chocolate chips. My friend is coming over tonight to make dinner before we race tomorrow, and since I have wanted to bake lately, I figured this would be a good way to bake and still be responsible: we'd bake together, I'd eat one, and send the leftovers home with her - she has a couple of roommates, and I bet the boys would love some cranberry orange white chocolate chip cookies.
I was just thinking the other day how nice it was that no one had yelled anything mean from a car window in nearly six months. In a matter of a fraction of a second, I felt like I undid all the work of the past thirty-six weeks. It doesn't matter what I look like today - for how I feel, I may as well weigh 345 pounds again.
I went home, baked the cookies, and ate three big ones - because my logical brain quits when heartache starts, and as long as I feel as sad as I did when I was my biggest, I might as well get the full experience and eat until I feel invisible again.

This hoodie used to be tight on me. This is the second winter coat I've outgrown this season.
This does not matter - all people see is what I am now.
I have not won yet.
Everyone tells me I look great, and sometimes I believe it.
But this does not matter - I only look great comparatively.
I look better than old me, but I don't look good.
I have not won yet.
My pants used to be size 28. Now they're 14.
But this does not matter - size 14 is still plus size.
I have not won yet.
I used to weigh 345 pounds. My BMI was 55.7 - "super obese." Now I'm 217 pounds.
But this does not matter - super or not, a BMI of 35 is still obese.
I have not won yet.
I keep talking about winning like this is some competition. The jerk says something that hurts me, so I have to eat 750 calories worth of cookies - anything you can do, I can do better. This really bothers me.
Also upsetting: maybe it's because I'm a language teacher and I notice odd little things, but I just realized that I wrote "I'm 217 pounds." As in, "I am 217 pounds." I am not 217 pounds. My body is. Physically, I'm just a person - one who is in transition. But I'm a lot of things beyond my physical self. I'm a daughter and a sister and a friend and a teacher and a blogger. I'm strong and I'm brave and I'm committed. And I'm responsible and accountable - so yes, I made cookies, but only a half-batch, of which I only ate three cookies, and they are all noted in my daily food log.
So jerk, say what you want when you drive down the road today - because I'm also a runner. A runner who is going to run the heck out of five miles of Chicago streets tomorrow.