One. Four. Five. Six. Twenty Six.

All important numbers.  Although, the first three don't define who I am; they sure as sh!t are proof of the hard work I've put forth the past 18 months.

I haven't really talked about my weight.  Specifics to be exact.  Numbers.  Because I know that the numbers don't define me, but I don't care who you are or where you are in your journey, You want to know where you are on the scale. It's true.

For the past 6 weeks, I have held steady at one hundred forty five pounds.  What. The. Crap.  I haven't talked about it because I swore it was a fluke.  But who am I kidding?  I work my tail o.f.f. 5-6 days a week and I've gotten a handle on my food intake again(ugh, carbs!).  And since I have stayed here, I am claiming it!

(In my best Alison Sweeney voice)My current weight is.... 145 pounds!


Boo.Yah.


I am happy with this. I was ecstatic at 150.  But that number is not me.  It does not define me, but damn it sure feels good!

****

Since before Thanksgiving, I have needed to get new jeans.  Every single pair of jeans I owned was ridiculously big.  Even my jeggings.  Which I loved so so so much.  But when the jeggings are too big, it is time to pony up the dough and get new jeans.

Have I ever mentioned I have a booty?  Yeah.  Shopping for jeans is sometimes I painful experience.  If they fit my backside, the waist is too big.  If they fit my waist, they are so tight on my tail I can't even think.  They're too short.  They're too long.  Ugh, it's exhausting.

I cried as I walked into Plato's Closet to "sell" my less than a year old BKE jeans, my most favoritest pair of jeggings and a few shirts that had long been retired.  I cried because I loved those jeans, but also because I had zero jeans in my closet.

That is not a joke.  Or an exaggeration.  I had NO PANTS hanging in my closet.  Even all my workout pants are too big.  But there I was, walking into Plato's Closet in my most comfy Nike track pants with an elastic waist(<~ This is important because my friend stepped on the bottom and I flashed the store half of my butt. True Story.) to "sell" my jeans.

And while I didn't get near close to what I paid for the BKE jeans, it was a small dent in what I needed to get new jeans.  Plus, I HAD to go buy new jeans at this point.  Five stores, 8,395 pairs of jeans later I found jeans that I love, fit correctly, hug me where they should and most importantly, FIT!  The best best best part was the number on the tag.  Not the price(holy sh!t!), the size.  I swear, I would have made out with the poor guy having to hang up all the jeans I tried on when I walked out of that changing room with a size SIX.  HOLLA! (<~This girl has never been in a size six.  EVER.)

And you know I took pictures to remember the momentous occassion:

My hand is covering my mouth because I was in shock.  I'm pretty sure I had a goofy smile on my face as well.  And yes, I had the little people with me and they were SO good(<~ For which they got candies).

Dear Express,

Your prices make me want to vomit, but your jeans love my butt so I love your jeans.

Sincerely,

Happy chick in a size SIX!

Those jeans were buy one get one half off.  Totally worth it.  And I got Express Cash.  I am in love.

****

This made me curious of my waist.  I mean, the inches.  Because I know the BKE's I sold were a 31.  And huge.  Which I bought after I had lost 30lbs.  I started this thing in a 15/16, so I know my waist was at a 34? 36? I'm not sure because I didn't measure myself(MEASURE YOURSELF!).  But I wanted to see where I was now.  Oh yes.  Twenty.Six.Inch.Waist.  My hips are a 28/29(baby got back).  I don't care, I am ecstatic!  

I have waited my entire life to feel good in my own skin.  To love my body.  To feel confident.  To be confident.

Mission. Accomplished.

XOXO!