I am not the number on the scale

I fell asleep last night sometime around 9pm and woke up this morning at 7am. Blech. Now I am in that "too much sleep" fog. I know, I probably needed it.

Last night while I was sleeping away my evening, I should have been picking up my apartment. Today is the annual apartment check by the complex. They come in and check smoke detectors, appliances, carpet, etc. My apartment isn't necessarily dirty, my dishes are clean and my bathtub is wiped down, but I have an inordinate amount of books and clothes laying around. The clothes are all over my bedroom and the books/papers/magazines are all over the living room and dining room. I'm trying to tell myself that I don't care, but I do. I'm not worried about getting in "trouble" because my reading materials and clothes are not damaging the apartment in any way, it's more of a pride thing.

My pride is screaming "they are just going to think you are fat and lazy!" How many people look at a fat persons messy apartment and think "she's fat and busy." I had a friend once who was the messiest person I've ever met. Her apartment was always trashed, nobody could ride in the back seat of her car, her locker at school was overflowing, and she was a tiny little blond. Her messiness was charming. Well, maybe only charming to people who didn't live with her. You see what I mean, though? Rather than being embarrassed about the mess, I'm more concerned about how this is going to be related to my weight. FAT AND LAZY!

Truth is, I am a little lazy. Many truths can probably be found in all of this - 1) I am a little lazy, 2) I am a little busy, 3) The apartment manager doesn't give a crap 4) The apartment manager has seen much worse, 5) I'm worrying over nothing, and on and on and on...

I don't like how I allow my weight to be such a force in my life.