Weighing the options

I have a confession to make, and it's a none too attractive one: I have finally lost weight. And I am irrationally, unspeakably thrilled about it.
The loss of a few pounds and the gaining of some muscle mass has made me as happy as booking a job or falling in love.
Isn't that appaling?
I was raised in the free to be you and me era! Body acceptance! Eating disorder awareness! I'm old anyway!
Balls.
Being thin IS the best revenge, and you know why? Because it's HARD to lose weight. It's very, very hard work. It's boring work. It's giving up dessert and sweet potato fries and wine. There is no easy way to do it and stay healthy.
I am pretty disgusted with myself. I wish I didn't care so much. I'm not much of a feminist or a bodyist or whatever.
But this is a confession. And as such I have to admit it. I'm a woman in our society, an actress, we value our looks and fret when they begin to leave us. No not fret, we become tortured. We HAVE to look a certain way to be found attractive, because even the smart ones have to be attractive.  Even the character women have to be attractive. If not thin, then at least symetrical.
This is an exausting way to live, but much like the dog who expects his walk and treat at a certain time of day, I am conditioned to think that those four pounds mean the difference between social viability and a life in seclusion.
Good lord.
What an exhausting way to live.
Time. to hit. the gym.