Acceptance MUST come before change...

So, me & the Hubster were invited to go out with another couple and listen to some fellows jam Friday night.
For me, there is no situation worse than getting dressed up to go out that makes my negative thoughts come up more. So, as I'm picking out clothes (Ie, putting stuff on, groaning that it makes me look fat, ripping it off, rinse and repeat) I start listening to myself.

Me: Ugh, this makes me look so FAT!!
Myself: Hun, you'd think you know this by now, but you ARE fat.
Me: Yes, but - still - I mean, you can see rolls!
Myself: Yes, because you have rolls - and really, there is nothing that you can do about them.

That's when I brought the conversation to a screeching halt. Okay, true, in the 20 minutes that I had before I needed to leave the house, there was/is nothing I could do about me being fat - but there IS something that I can do about being fat. Does that make sense? I wondered, just how much I've been telling myself that there is 'nothing' I can do about it - have I been talking myself OUT of losing weight all of this time? Have I been spinning my own image to make me think that I wasn't really THAT fat, and even if I was - there was nothing I could do about it?
It's a possibility, I suppose - that I've been convincing myself all of this time that there was really nothing I could do - because it was too hard, too time consuming, would require me to wake up too early, would make me take multiple showers a day, would force me to change my schedule, my habits, my cravings - basically, if I wanted to be a not-fat person, I would have to change my life, and really, I don't think - and honestly, even now - I still don't really BELIEVE in my heart of hearts that the trade off will be worth it.
But you know what I keep telling myself? If - IF I become that not-fat person, and I decide that the trade-off ISN'T worth it, well hell, I can just stop doing all that hard work, sit back down on me ass, and gain all the weight back.

I should be able to do this for myself - just one year. One year of working out every, single, day. One year of eating healthy, valuable, foods. One year of loving myself and my body and being PROUD of everything I do to and with my temple. 52 weeks, 365 days, 12 full moons, and one birthday.
Even if it is icky, and nasty, and changes what I usually do and how I usually do it - at least I would have really, really, TRIED.