This Saturday, a dear friend is getting married in what is shaping up to be the Dixie-fried version of the royal wedding. At the beginning of the summer, I set a goal weight for the wedding date. I’m not part of the wedding party but I figured it would give me something to shoot for. The wedding is 3 days away and I’m 4 pounds from my goal weight. Unless I sit in a steam room wrapped in black plastic trash bags for the next three days, I think this goal weight is pretty much unattainable at this point. I could swear off everything but iceberg lettuce and bottled water between now and then but you and I both know I’d end up in the psychiatric ward of the nearest hospital being considered a threat to society, the skinny part of society, anyway. Maybe if I greased myself with Crisco and squeezed my body into some industrial strength Spanx, that goal weight dress would fit. Of course, I’d have to hire someone to help harness me up in one of those ill-fitting girdles. There’s no way I could manage myself.

Today, the realization that I won’t be meeting this goal by my desired date crushed my spirit. I skipped a scheduled workout and told anyone who would listen about how bad I wanted pizza, Chinese food, and cannolis, in no certain order either. Maybe spread out over the course of the next couple of days or maybe all for supper. I debated ordering takeout tonight laced with so much MSG and soy sauce, I’d still be retaining water when the bride makes her grand appearance Saturday night.

I just felt defeated and tired all day. Tired of putting in all those hours of exercising when I wanted to go home and lay on the couch. Tired of all the prepping, cooking and packing healthy alternatives when what I really wanted was to pick up the phone and order cheesy greasy pizza delivered straight to my front door. Tired of all the days my mind plays an imaginary game of tug of war between what I wanted to eat and what I should eat. Just tired.

As I was sitting in the longest drive thru line ever, wrapped around Panera Bread because me and the rest of the free world were scared we’d melt in the falling rain if we went in to order, I began thumbing through pictures on my phone. I flipped back to pictures from when I started my journey a couple of years ago to shed all these unwanted pounds. I couldn’t believe what I saw, a girl who struggled to walk up a hill at a golf tournament much less play golf, a girl who sat at a basketball game trying not to make eye contact with old high school flames because she was ashamed of the hundred pounds she had put on since graduating, a girl who cried in the dressing room trying on formals for a charity event because she knew she’d be the biggest in attendance, and a girl who went to the beach with her family and turned sideways sucking in her gut as the pictures snapped in hopes of appearing thinner. Then I flipped to the newer ones, a girl who whacked a little white golf ball during a tournament just last week sending it sailing 200 yards, a girl who sat poised and confident having head shots taken for work, a girl who stood in the dressing room at the Gap misty eyed because their clothes finally fit, and a girl who stood in her kitchen modeling for her husband the dress she planned to wear to the wedding. In looking at those pictures, I remembered where I started, where I had been and where I was today. Four pounds shy of my goal but 66 pounds down from where I started.

I was unsuccessful in reaching my wedding weight mini goal unless Jesus performs a miracle between now and Saturday. So what? I ain’t going anywhere, Lord willing and the creek don’t rise. I’m not where I want to be but I remember where I used to be.

Today, that’s success enough.

Deuteronomy 6:12 Then beware lest thou forget the Lord, which brought thee forth out of the land of Egypt, from the house of bondage.imageimageimageimage