Two years...and fifty pounds.

Sigh. Here I am. I could sit and make excuses all day long, none of which can remotely justify how I got here. I just know that I am here. Sitting not so pretty at 235 pounds. I want to cry and drown my sorrows in chocolate. Which is kind of how I ended up here. My life has certainly been topsy turvy over the last two years, a seperation, a reunion, the loss of someone dear, a new career, a couple of moves, and a seemingly forever revolving number on the scales. These would all seem like pretty valid excuses to explain my weight gain, but in all actuality it wasn't until life calmed down that I started to really gain. I am at a fairly content place in my life. After some really rocky times, my husband and I are madly in love, I have a job that I like, with people that I love, and I have some really great kids. I am, however not content with myself. I look in the mirror and I want to scream. I don't like what I see. I don't want to put on make-up, or even get out of my sweats, because no amount of cute clothes or make-up will hide the weight. I have spent countless hours trying to figure out how I let myself get here, but the real question I need to ask myself is how I am going to get away from here. I want to be successful. Truly successful. I want to change the way I see myself. I want to feel beautiful again. I am not setting any crazy weightloss goals this time around. My goal is to take better care of me, to look in the mirror and see me, not the fat girl that ate me, to be able to go out and hold my head up high, to want to show myself to my husband, instead of hiding with the lights out. So how do I do it?