Broke my little toe this morning. It's black and hurts like a MF'er. Fortunately, my shoe wardrobe consists of tennis shoes and flip-flops because I can't wear anything else. I keep reminding myself that at age 11, I danced five performances of the Nutcracker on pointe with a smashed little toe, so I should quit bitching.

Had my first session with my new therapist and I *really* like her. She hadn't gotten my file from my previous therapist, so it was primarily telling her about my background. Asked me what issues I wanted to work on. Told her that my mother is a MAJOR source of distress and disruption in my life, but since we're going to start 'family counseling' in the fall, that I think it should be a secondary issue for the time-being. Told her about the rape, how the police and DA's office haven't done squat, the betrayal by Bryon and my friend Jen, the depression and sucide plans, etc. That I need to work on trusting myself, my judgment, and others. She said something that my old therapist said frequently - that I'm incredibly resilient.

Then I hobbled back to my car and went to the gym. Did circuit training and realized there was no way I could do the elliptical without being drugged. (Of course, looking at my black swollen toe makes it hurt more!) So I did an hour on the recumbant bike. I've always thought that if you can read a newspaper while 'exercising' that it doesn't qualify as exercise. I was right. I was bored as hell. I did 13 miles with 50% resistance. Heartbeat never got above 115.

About 5 years ago, I lost a good chunk of weight. My boobs were huge and didn't budge despite the weightloss. DD+ (I refused to go larger than that bra-size-wise). So I had a breast reduction. After the surgery, I was a small C, full B. I've lost 25lbs since May and my body fat % has gone down 8%. And my boobs are getting smaller. I have too much room in my sports bra cups now. Need to send a memo to my body to remove fat from my thighs and leave my boobs the hell alone.