I knew as soon as it got closer to him being here, the more antsy and nervous I would get. And last night, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, without clothes, and freaked out. It was at that point my anxiety took over, and all the rational thought that I might have entertained was right out the window. All I could I think about was that he would be disappointed in me, and regret spending the time and expense that it took for him to come here, and that he would regret all these months we've been talking. And that he would just not like me.

Now, I know that the chances of that happening are quite small, given the fact that I have given this man countless photographs of me, strictly because of the fact that I don't want there to be any surprises, appearance-wise. And I know that he doesn't care, and has told me that he thinks I am beautiful "just the way [I am]" (god, I felt like fucking Bridget Jones).

I don't want it to look like I'm fishing for compliments, because I'm not. But this is what I'm feeling right now, and this is the only place I want to put it, where I know probably no one is reading it. But the fact is, my appearance has controlled my thoughts my whole life, and I can't expect it to change now. And it's so hard for me to hear compliments - from anyone - but especially from him.

I sent him this old picture of me, and he replied back, "I've said it a million times, and I'll say it again - Andria is a very pretty girl. Even if she doesn't believe me." It bothered me that a) he might think I think he's just blowing sunshine up my ass, and that I doubt his sincerity, and that b) he thinks I am some loser with no self-esteem whatsoever, and who the fuck wants to deal with that?

Fuck. I need to get over this. Maybe it's time to consider therapy again.

Gah. I don't want my anxiety to ruin this experience.

And in better news (and by better, I mean not better AT ALL), I have to lose 80 pounds in six months.

Great!

I had to have gastric bypass surgery because I was a lifetime failure at dieting. Because as sad as it is to say, I could not control what I was eating. Because I ate all the time.

So I did have the surgery, lost a hundred pounds and got a big fat hernia, that opened up my stomach, so that it would empty a half hour after I eat. Now that I can take in more calories, my weight loss has stopped (though, I'm not gorging myself all the time like I used to, I can still eat much more than I'm supposed to).

And, in order to repair the hernia, I need to lose A LOT more weight so my doctor can do the tummy tuck that is done at the same time.

80 pounds. In six months. All on my own. And, I hate to sound like a whiny ass, but I'm nervous, because I've never been able to do it. And I know if I don't, every fucking thing I've gone through since my surgery will be for nothing.

I am not sure what in my mind is stopping me, and why I continue to do this to myself, because my life would be so much better, and so much easier, if I wasn't my own biggest obstacle.