Every now and then I have to kick myself or apply a not so gentle push. Most really kind people say "don't push yourself too hard," but they might not understand just how much mediocrity and failure scare me.
I rested and I moped. Then I got myself ready, washed my hair and started trying on clothes that only a few days ago had been too tight.
With or without Scott, I'm going to that support group meeting. He says he's coming and I keep struggling to put my best face forward.
I've never liked the idea of support groups. Just the thought of them reminds me of a taping of Oprah or Dr. Phil. I don't like public displays of pity and if I get any more aggressively confident the world might not survive it.
But I see this support group, NooMee , as a tool of survival. On the way out, I told Scott this surgery puts you at a point where success doesn't mean just losing weight -- It means you live -- and I can't afford even a moment of failure. I'm going to afford myself every single tool available.
I gave Scott the camera on my way out the door. Time to kick butt, take names.