We hit Lucy Mae Brown, a little wee restaurant/lounge on a once popular but no longer street near the Theatre/Club district. 6 people. Good times. Good food, good wine. It's worth it to budget a large sum for such an evening, and I did.

But I must say, it's even more worth it when you at least know some of your good time is letting other people have a good time too. I mean, if you're going to go out anyway, do it when it benefits someone else, right?

It was a great night, I really enjoyed it and I would go back there again most certainly.

But on the same note, last night marked the final night in my decent to hell!!! I have lost a bit of drive regarding my eating habits and have let my weight creep back up to 162. That's discouraging. A lot.

My roommate is going through something similar. The two of us seem to be in a slump. So today, I am making amends and beginning again. I've hooked myself back up to weight watchers because Atkins made me lose my hair. I was doing so well, and I think a lot of my late depression has something to do with feeling uncomfortable and unhappy in my own skin. Like a sausage in the wrong casing.

My clothes are tight. I've put on nearly 14 pounds since my lowest weight of 148. It hurts inside to remember how people commented on how hot I looked and sexy and gorgeous and blah blah, and to feel/realize/know/see that I am bigger again, and those comments would be retracted. Or maybe not, but I know people can tell.

My body is the way it is, and I just can't eat with abandon the way a lot of my friends can. I have to watch it. I have to really be careful. P is naturally slim, she's about 5'10, she models, she eats like a madwoman, but she doesn't store it anywhere. It goes right through her. Her sister is the same way. They are just born to be lean mean eating machines. So when we hang out, I have to keep in mind that there are certain things I can't just eat for the hell of it. I can't just stuff my face, I have to be super careful.

JR and Tromley are also lean n mean. They've both lived their lives never knowing what it's like to have an extra 50 or 30 or 15 pounds on their bodies. Their weight fluxuates by about 10 pounds maybe, and that's usually in the down direction. I wonder what it's like to never REALLY have to think about what you're eating.

I mean obviously, they're going to feel crappy and gross if they've eaten nothing but crap and gross for a week. But it doesn't affect the way their pants fit. I just wonder what it's like. I've never ever in my life ever been that way. When I was small, maybe I didn't care, but I can't remember that. I can't remember a day when I didn't have to struggle or worry or at least be painfully conscious that I have a problem, or at least something that our society views as a problem.

The saddest part of all, is that I am not unhealthy. I'm not obese. I carry a few extra pounds on my body which render it's shape displeasing to most others. I'm not going to die of heart disease. I'm not going to contract diabetes. I don't wheeze when I run up stairs. But I'm still viewed as a problem. I hate that.

At least I've got my nice full breasts back for the time being. But it's time to drop that 20 pounds, swallow my pride and let go of the joy of my breasts. They'll have to be emptied out sacks for me the rest of North America and me to be completely satisfied with my size.

Yeah, I'm being grumpy. Sorry. But it's Friday, and I get to sleep in tomorrow, and Sunday I get to overhaul my garden.

Helen and i had a discussion last night about getting happy. Like learning to be happy with stuff that you have instead of saying "If only I had this stuff, then I'd be happy". Stuff being anything, not just tangible things. BUt I suppose if you think that way, you'll never be happy.

Life is better than I think it is..isn't it?