I dreamt about a chocolate donut last night. A delicious, moist, chocolate-covered 300-calorie each Entenmann’s donut.

When I was at the grocery store the other day I walked past the donut display. I couldn’t help it, they stick it right in the middle of the aisle between the frozen vegetables and the crackers, taunting you to make the wrong decision while surrounded with healthy options. It’s been a long time since I had one of those donuts.

They were calling my name. I picked up the box and looked at them longingly. Then I put it down. Then I picked it back up. Then I turned it over to look at the “nutritional” information.

Then I put it back down.

It’s bad when you dream about baked goods.

Becoming a buff bride has been aΒ challenge. I started the week after I returned from Vegas in January and to date, I’ve lost 10 pounds, gained muscle and have hardly any nice work clothes that fit me anymore. But that doesn’t stop me from looking in the mirror and not liking what I see.

I’ve been a major gym-slacker these past two weeks. When the weather got nice the last thing I wanted to do was be inside a gym, so Jen and I tried to play as much tennis as possible before the gray-ness came back. I know that tennis is still exercise, but it’s not the same as the sweat I build up after a go on the elliptical.

Sometimes I miss the carefree attitude I used to have about weight and food. When I was in high school I never gaveΒ  it a thought. I didn’t have to. Hours of dance a week kept me fit and lean and my body had no qualms eating a big bowl of pasta for dinner.

Even after gaining weight in college, I never did much about it, naively thinking that I was naturally thin and could basically eat whatever I wanted to as long as it was in moderation.

Um, I can’t. We’ve all had a turning point, right? When you look at a picture of yourself and think, I actually look like that?

Mine was a very specific picture from my first trip to Vegas inΒ July 2007. I hate this picture, but I’m sharing it with you anyway.

At my heaviest, I was all chin, arms and boobs. Three places you really can’t hide weight. But even after seeing that picture, I wasn’t kicked into high gear. I don’t know — maybe I was lazy. Or maybe I wasn’t ready to admit that I actually had gained weight.

As the year went on, I lost some weight naturally. When I got engaged, I lost a good amount of weight. I know you can lose weight when you’re depressed, but I didn’t know it happened when you were happy, too. But I did. And then I was stressed over a new job so I lost a little there too. But I was still heavier than I wanted to be.

So here we are, five months into a gym routine and six months away from my wedding day.

It’s not exactly where I want to be, but I’m getting there. I still slip up — a few extra cocktails here, a fried Chinese food dinner there, but I’m trying.

And as much as I know that I must stay away from those donuts, damn, do I want one.

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