I had one of those nights last night. It was hot in our room, the cat kept knocking things over to wake me up, I just couldn't get comfortable in bed. Of course, about twenty minutes after the bed felt like the most comfortable thing on earth...
"I have to be halfway across town in 20 minutes!" says my husband.
"Fine, go. What are you yelling at me for?" I mumble, half-asleep still.
When I was tossing and turning, I tried to bore myself to sleep with a little visualization of what I would look like when I was at my goal weight and buying all new clothes. Oddly, this was not the comforting, easy prelude to dreamland that I thought it would be. I just couldn't imagine it, and then I got wound up wondering what that meant.
Then when I finally fell asleep, I dreamed about obsessively searching for the right bikini to wear to the beach (as if).
The last time I got to my goal weight, I had fun shopping for smaller and smaller sizes, but then I sort of forgot about clothes because I didn't worry anymore about what I looked like. Feeling that way was really disorienting. It was like I didn't know what to do with all my unused brainpower (and at that point, I was still in a PhD program, so there is really something wrong with me). I used to get up, put on the first shirt and pants I grabbed, and be off to the races. It's hard to imagine that kind of life.
I really wonder if the secret to getting there is being able to picture it, and I also wonder why I can't really do that. Something to ponder, I guess, when my brain finally wakes up.