This is who I am now, someone who takes care of herself -- and is consumed by things more interesting than what's on the scale. Junk food still calls, obviously. But I don't answer. And that feels terrific.
I might not live longer, but I feel great. That makes passing up the French fries -- and the French toast, drizzled with so much butter and syrup even the new me pauses for a moment of wistful -- so worth it.