Body Acceptance. It's kinda a cool thing.

So. Listen. 

All of my life, I've had this huge problem with my body. Not just certain parts of it . . . just. All of the things.

Normally, in conversation, I bash my own body for having an obnoxious fat roll here, or my boobs are too small, or my arms are all jiggly.

I kinda discovered something tonight though, after hanging out with two of my favorite people. 

I love my body. I really do. It's kinda been a more frequent occurrence, especially this past weekend after looking in the mirror on Saturday morning and saying to myself "Well . . . Shit, girl. You're not even wearing a bra, and you're looking good!"

Working out has made me so much happier with where my body is. Things are still progressing and toning/firming up, which is awesome. Chunk is very slowly disappearing, and I've even noticed it's lifted quite significantly. Which at first was really strange, but then I realized . . . if it's lifting, that means I'm toning something right. The fat may not be disappearing at this very moment, but everything else underneath is shifting and moving where it needs to be.

My legs? I love them. They're curvy, my thighs are getting more slender with each workout - at least, that's how it seems. My waist is literally shrinking (down an inch and a half since the beginning of the month) and all in all - everything is looking up, and good, and fantastic. 

I even got to a certain point today where I looked at myself in the mirror, in one of my bras and said: "Well. Now I seriously feel like I'm overcompensating." 

Wanna know why? I'll tell you a secret. 

I've been wearing push-up bras basically since I started wearing underwire bras. Mainly because I was so ashamed of my itty-bitty boobs. See. There's this thing in my family - a curse we call it, where every woman has a decent set of ta-tas. And I'm not just talking like, C cup. I'm talkin' double D's. Somehow though . . . It skipped a generation. I'm the only woman on my mother's side of the family who has really tiny boobs.

Someone actually commented on mine the other day about how "There was just the right amount" and I didn't have the balls to tell them that most of what they saw was padding. 

Now. Don't get me wrong. I'm all for bras that give amazing cleavage. I know I have what it takes (at least) to give me that. I can even get a good cleave-line in a sports bra, if it's the right one.

I honestly think though, that after I wear these current bras out, and after my ribs shrink to the point where the band doesn't fit me anymore - I'm going to give up my extreme push-up bras. Because you know what? I've actually learned to love my boobs. I want to be able to finally have someone knock into me and actually feel the pain of an elbow to the boob. I want them to shine, in all of their itty, bitty glory, and just say "Oh. Hey guys! Look! I'm tiny and proud!"

They're tiny. They're perky. They're never going to give me problems. I can go without wearing a bra, and 9 times out of 10, people don't notice. They're even, finally, starting to look proportionate to my body, which was another big reason as to why I was constantly wearing push-up bras . . . because my top half didn't balance out with my bottom half. My gut stuck out farther than my boobs, and for me, it felt so damn embarrassing. 

So. Here's to body acceptance. Here's to me gradually learning to love all of the things about myself, and embracing everything that makes me, me. 

Rock on, Tiny Boobs. Rock on. <3

Life just makes me so happy.

I saw my old nutrition professor today. She has her class right next to where I work, and I figured "Well, she was so excited to see how I was doing last time that I should say hi."

I printed out my "before and during" picture to see if I could jog her memory on who I was - and she sure as hell remembered! She just looked at me all smiley saying "I'm so proud of you." I just wanted to hug her - and I did. Hahaha. I probably looked like a freak in front of her whole class, but I couldn't give a what. 

She even said that I should keep in touch with her and proceeded to give me her email address, her cell phone number and her home phone number, in case I had any questions about anything! 

And honestly, I've been feeling a little under the weather this week - I think I have a cold heading my direction, so working out has been replaced by ample amounts of sleeping. I have, however, been really good about counting my calories though. Nothing less than 1200.

I'm really hoping I can get back to working out tonight though, if I don't feel like I'm going to collapse from exhaustion. My body is honestly starting to miss it. 

It's been a good week, overall. :) I love reconnecting with people. <3

Huh? You wanna know how I've been doing what?

I. Am just. So in love with life right now.

Threw four mugs on the wheel today, which was awesome. Reconnected with an old friend, which was awesome. And? The sweet, sweet people in my ceramics class asked me how I was losing so much weight.

You know what this means?

I'm not crazy!

My scale? Yeah. It can go suck a big one. I weighed myself this morning and it said 161.

The lovely people in the class though made comments about how much of a difference they could see between this semester and last semester. So. Happy. Like. Over the moon. Only makes me wanna go home and work out that much harder and drink that much more water.

Dream bod, here I come! :D

(Currently too excited to even detail right now. Woo!)

Bad times. They happen.

So. It definitely feels like it's been waaaay past a week since my last update, even though it really hasn't been.

Needless to say, last week wasn't so great. I ate like crap, and even though I worked out, it was still just a bad week. Didn't drink nearly enough water, and somehow my weight fluctuated back up to 164 even though I didn't think I ate that horribly. Evidently I was . . . wrong? I don't know. I'm praying that part of it is water weight. I think my scale and I need to be spending even less time together. I did, however, go out to dinner three times this past week - Dad's birthday, exciting family news, and went to the ballet, so the roomie and I treated ourselves to something nice. Even though I tried to behave, I feel like I could have pushed myself over the edge of my calorie limit easily.

I'm getting a little flustered with my scale though, so I've officially taken to measuring my body with a tape measure, rather than relying on my scale, because the thing is driving me up a wall. 

I know this might be a bad thing to say, but I honestly want to stop going out to eat, I think. At least until I get to where I need to be. Well. Maybe just for the rest of February. Doesn't seem like that hard of a thing to do, and it's not like I went out to eat a lot anyway. I'm talking everything too - no bars, no clubs, no alcohol, no restaurants - if I can't straight-up see the calories in it, I don't wanna eat it. I've got just under three months to get to where I want to be, or at least damn near close, and it's time to put the pedal to the metal on it.

Welp. Chin up, buttacup. Just gonna keep pushing forward. First week of February, not so great. Second week is gonna be bitchin'. I got this.