I’m plumb out of stationary. I figure e-thank you’s to be both trendy and fitting. So here goes:
To those who eat at my table, even if that table is imaginary, and even if that imaginary table is set with the letters on a keyboard and a clunky wireless mouse, thank you.
To those who peer into the computer screen window at my life and all I choose to share, thank you.
To those who read the pages of my blog as you might a journal or, dare I say, a book (albeit a 3rd grade novel), thank you.
To those who come here because you want to lose weight, you can. You will. Thank you.
To those who come here because you are losing weight, you can. You will. Thank you.
To those who come here because you have lost weight and are finding your own ‘normal,’ you can. You will. Thank you.
To those who have read the posts in which I’ve been as honest as I know honest to be- about loss, about sadness, about life- that sharing has been cathartic and somehow intimate. Thank you.
To those who think I write with any shred of confidence, know that I delete each and every post one full time before rewriting and publishing it. The process has never for one day gotten easier, never less overwhelming. Never. If it seems the slightest bit effortless, I’m a master manipulator, and thank you.
To those who find my writing on par with the intelligence level of a chimpanzee, that ain’t half bad. Thank you.
To those who notice that my hands are chronically dry in photographs where I fondle the food, that’s an excellent point. I will get lotion and thank you.
To those who recognize my eccentricities, know that I’m zany, accept unpredictability, embrace mild forms of psychosis, and love me nonetheless, thank you.
To the people in my real life who I’ve written stories about, semi-exposed, and/or tarnished the reputation of, please trust that I publicly embarrass myself more than you’ll ever know. And thank you.
To those who visit just for the recipes and skim the fluffy puff of a preface or even the thick sludge of a heartfelt beginning, I hope the ones you’ve tried have turned out well. I can’t always nourish the soul too, so thank you.
To those who tell me that I’ve inspired them, motivated them, made them feel that it’s all okay, that it’s all worthwhile, I am forever your fat or thin friend. I will always know. I am here, thanking you.
To those who comment, even when I don’t, even when I can’t comment in return, I’m in awe of you and your giving nature. Thank you.
To those who laugh with me (and at me), joke after lame joke, antic after ‘No, but really is this chick for real?’ antic, being me is the funniest of funny. And even when it’s not, it kinda is. Thank you.
To all of you, you’ve changed my life. Thank you.
Click here for my recipe for Dark Chocolate Almond Joy Cookies