Holding myself accountable for physical changes has been my downfall for about 15 years now. Growing up, I was always the skinny girl who could eat whatever she wanted. I took my build for granted, ate like crap, and didn't think twice about it. College hit, I got little to no sleep, I started drinking, I ate pizza at 3 am...same old story. The freshman 15 was the freshman 25. Fast forward to now...I am 34, have 2 kids, am in grad school, have a full-time job, and am so unhappy in my personal life that I eat. I eat to feed my sorrow. My happiness. My boredom. My disappointment. It's not working for me. I get a taste of success and sabotage myself knowingly. I have delusions that some transforming moment will make it all click. The reality is, the transforming moment is whenI decide to stop making any of the excuses, allowing the shame, allowing the self-sabotage.