I am not even going to bother posting a pic this week because my weight hasn’t even budged by half a pound. I am going to fail this competition miserably if I don’t get my butt in gear (although, in all honesty, I’ve probably already lost. I think Jeremy is doing great, that bastard).
All of these lame, space-filler, back-posted picture posts I uploaded for this past weekend have had me thinking (for the billionth time) about how much my life has changed since moving to Toronto, and how glad I am to be here (even though, technically, I don’t really like the city and I absolutely hate my living situation at the moment). I love my job, though, which is a huge improvement over Peterborough where The Call Centre was sucking at my very soul.
And I have more friends here than I ever thought I would, including some of my very favourites who I’ve known since high school, and brand new ones I met after the move. I even like Dexter more here (although, I suspect that has something to do with him mellowing out and pooping outside than the actual change in location).
I get out more, too, and I actually have a life. Even my relationship with Chase has improved as a result. Our main issue in Peterborough was that he went out all the time, and I never did. Now we do things together, and it’s made us better as a couple.
I also drink more. A LOT MORE. I went from someone who never drank alcohol to someone who has a glass of wine with dinner. From someone who never gets intoxicated to someone who occasionally gets tipsy (usually accidentally because I’m such a cheap drunk).
Since the move out here to Toronto, I think the biggest thing that has improved is my confidence. I ride transit by myself, without getting lost. I wear heels and makeup without worrying about falling on my ass (even though I frequently do, anyway), or about my mascara running down my face. I wore a dress on two separate occasions without thinking too harshly about how fat my legs are. I joined a salsa class, even though the thought of shaking my butt in front of strangers still makes me cringe a little bit on the inside. I am doing a job I was sure I’d never be able to do. I am making new friends. I have fewer anxiety attacks and random bouts of guilt that come for no reason. Most of the time, I feel pretty normal (well, awkward, but normal), and it’s nice.