If I’m going to chronicle my self-improvement, then the self-detriment probably needs documentation too. I had a setback this week. A setback in my confidence with one swift arrow to my achilles heel, or rather, my achilles cankle.

This past week, I was in the land of Paula Deen. One night while conversing with family over a fried-chicken dinner, my uncle said to me, “If you keep losing weight, the boys are really going to start chasing you.” That’s not really what you want to hear when a.) you’re PMSing like a bear and b.) there’s a fried-chicken drumstick hanging from your mouth. As Bridget Jones knows, there’s no good response to comments like these, so I just fake laughed and nodded.

I know he meant it as a compliment, but that’s certainly not how I took it. For starters, I’m not even single. Somehow, I found a guy who’s hilarious, smart, charming, and kind— and keeps going out with me! Bizarre, but I try not to jinx it with too much questioning. So, how am I supposed to feel when it’s insinuated that currently, just as I am, it would be impossible for a guy to like me?

Secondly, when are women going to be more than their bodies? He could have said, “If you keep pursuing your Master’s degree, then boys are really going to start chasing you.” Or, “If you keep dedicating yourself to working with children and making the world just a little bit better, then boys are really going to start chasing you.” But you’d never expect to hear that, would you?

I started to reel into a cycle of self-loathing for a day or two, but today I woke up feeling a tiny bit of optimism. I woke up, worked out, showered, and ate clean, healthy, moderate meals. I decided that I’m at a good starting point. I’m going to be strong and lean by fall, partly motivated by spite, but for myself only. They can chase, but they’ll never catch me.