One of my resolutions for this year is to lose 10 more pounds. Let me tell you the story.

I am an obstinate person. If you say black, I’ll say white and even prove why it’s white. So in high school, when all my size 3 friends were bemoaning the size of their thighs, I said to myself, “I’m never going to let my weight bother me. I’m so much more than what the scale says, and it’s silly to diet to try to lose weight.” Of course, being 120 pounds didn’t really necessitate me thinking otherwise.

When I made my New Year’s resolutions, I never, ever had “lose 10 pounds” on the list like other women. I prided myself for being okay with myself.

In 2008, I weighed 155. I noticed I had “be okay with my weight. Really.” on my resolutions. Small warning sign. Then when I went camping and saw a picture of myself in my swimsuit, my world changed. I realized I’d been lying to myself about being okay with how I looked. Now, I know at 155 and 5′1″ I wasn’t obese, but the fact that I was uncomfortable with how I looked made me realize that me judging my thinner friends for wanting to be even skinnier was unfair.

After all, it’s all about you. You need to be comfortable in your skin, at whatever weight you are. If you’re not, you have the power to change it.

This was revolutionary thinking for me, the rebellious anarchist. And so I began my journey last fall and lost 10 pounds. I was so excited to see the weight come off and my pants get looser (although that then puts me in the predicament of not having properly fitting clothes). Still, at the end of the 10 pounds, I felt I wanted to lose 10 more, but decided (wisely) to wait until after the holidays.

And here I am. I’m currently working off the 5 I gained enjoying copious amounts of cookies, cheeseballs, and wine over the holidays but will soon be working it all off. It’s easier this go ’round, but yesterday I had a crisis of faith and almost ate a bag of one cute pita bread bites. My husband is cheerleading me along the way.

And at the end of this 10 pounds a ski trip in Montreal is awaiting me. It’s his Christmas present to me. At least with all the exercise I won’t get my ass kicked too badly on the slopes (my first time ever).