I stepped on my scale this morning, because it is Monday and I've been really doing my best to only weigh myself once a week.
Since January 24th, 2007, I've lost 19 pounds.
I was pleased with myself.
I pulled on my pants. I was pleased I could take off my pants without having to unbutton or unzip them (to go to the bathroom...because I drink 200 ounces of water a day and have to go a lot).
I got dressed and was pleased with the way I looked in the mirror. I know I have a long way to go, but still. I'm feeling better and looking better.
I went to the gas station this morning, got out of my car and was pumping my gas when a truck with a man who was probably thirty-five or so pulled up.
The man, again, who was probably THIRTY-FIVE YEARS OLD, yelled at me:
And then mooed at me. Like a cow.
I have no idea who that man was.
I have no idea why he felt it was his personal responsibility to inform me that I'm a fat-ass and make barnyard animal noises at me.
But I don't feel very pleased with myself anymore.
It's a good thing my self-esteem is already in the toilet. Because that? Might have really hurt my feelings.