96.5 lbs. BMI: 16.7. It's truly odd, and interesting, how little I actually care. I'm glad to be losing weight again, yes, but the actual number doesn't matter. I just have to lose and lose and lose. It's already pretty low, and I already think my body is too skinny, but I have to keep losing. It doesn't matter about anything else in life -- it can go on, or it can not, but I HAVE to lose weight, whether sooner or later. And I absolutely cannot do anything that I know would cause me to gain weight, and minimize weight-maintenance behaviors to a bare minimum. That's just it. That's all my life really is right now, at its essence.

I'm helping with a political campaign, and I have a sponsor child, and getting portraits done today at 5 as part of me and my sister's gift to our parents for their 30th anniversary... but absolutely NONE of that would matter if I wasn't losing weight. For that matter, if it all disappeared tomorrow, it wouldn't be so much a disappointment as, "Oh, I have to find some other way to distract myself now", despite how much enjoyment or satisfaction I may get out of these other pursuits. The weight loss is actually the only thing that truly matters, aside from maybe the political campaign. And that is truly, pathetically SAD.