I feel as if Britney and I are soul sisters; I really do. She's going through her own little comeback, and god damn it, so am I. (No, I'm not referring to the fact that no one reads my blog anymore.)

You see, I lost a lot of weight in March. Seriously. A lot. I was in between apartments, I was in between gyms, things were hectic (to say the least) at work. In a matter of four weeks, I dropped 15 pounds.

Granted, I can see my abs now (Hi, abs!), but when I stepped on the scale a few weeks ago to assess the damage, I just couldn't believe my eyes. 170 pounds? I don't even identify with that weight anymore.

170. I think of 170 and think of small, bony, wasting away. A fraction of what I should be. Where I should be. I should be at 195 by now but I fucked up and I've fallen to 170. Shit.

But, like Britney, I'm ready for my comeback. She's got her brown wig and cowboy boots; I've got my Ziploc bags of ground oatmeal and my lifting gloves. Britney's been camped out in the dance studio; I've been camped out in the squat rack and on the incline bench and in the kitchen. We've both stumbled (to varying degrees), but this has served only to make us stronger. (Stronger than yesterday, now it's nothing but my way, you might even say.)

The audio of this 2000 performance is what has gotten me through every workout for the past two weeks. Watch it and be inspired (and also somewhat saddened, given her current state), too. (I love at 00:53 [or 03:28, if counting down] when some dude yells, "Yeah, Britney!" That is totally me.)