This has been a really discouraging week for me.
I allowed myself to focus on the numbers on the scale as opposed to measuring my success by the way I felt. I’ve never really cared about what I weighed or what I looked like, but now all of the sudden, I was focusing on that. The size of my jeans is effecting the state of mind.
When I look at how far I need to go to get to a healthy weight, it’s terrifying, and frankly, how in the heck is this going to even happen? And how long will it actually take? And am I totally setting myself to fail at this for the gazillionith time? Will my outside ever match my inside? Can I do this?
In my head, I know that the changes and the improvements that I’m feeling are massive, but why are they falling to the wayside? Why am I thinking about number of pounds lost as opposed to how little pain I am in now? How have I forgotten about my how much clearer my head is and how much better I feel in general? How does something that I’ve never really cared all that much about have this much power in my head? Why does this need to happen?
It took me almost 45 years to get to the place I am, and even though part of me knows that my world can’t change overnight, I still want that. I want to be able to look in the mirror and see that I am done. I want to be able to eat whatever I want, wear whatever I want and not have to constantly think about all of the ways I’ve screwed up or how I’ve failed. I want to just be a normal person that no one looks at and judges because of the size I am or the foods that I’m putting in my mouth. I want to not be where I am physically. I want to think about something else.
This is a horrible place to be. A stinking, rotten, mind messing up, place to be.
At least it was. Thankfully, I managed to wake up and after about 5 days of nonsense, I remembered what I’m really working towards. It’s not about a size. It’s not about a reflection in a mirror. And it most certainly isn’t about a number on a scale.
It’s about life. And not living the one that I’ve been trapped in for the last few years. It’s about fixing something that I’ve broken. And obviously, I’ve got to start working on my brain and reminding it of what this is truly about.
It’s not about skinny. It’s about losing myself and finding me. In spite of the numbers.
Week Eight gave me this:
5 days of mental torment and disbelief.
A reminder of why I’m doing this and where I’m going.
And leggings. I wore leggings in public, which I’m still not convinced is the right choice for a fat girl, but it was either that or the super large lumberjack pants. No one laughed at me, so I’m calling that a win.
No weigh-in this week though as I picked up the plague from one of the 7, and am languishing on the couch with throat drops and Advil which frankly, I’m looking at as a gift. This was not the week to step on a scale.
As I move forward, I acknowledge that I don’t have to be strong and perfect all the time. Instead, I need to just be okay. And happy. And kind to myself. The rest of it is just cake. Or at least one day, it will be. 🙂
- WANT TO JOIN ME? I have an excellent coach & team The Medicine Shoppe in Sherwood Park. They’re very encouraging, very supportive and have lots of great ideas and advice to share, and I could use a weight loss buddy. They’ve graciously made an offer for all of my friends that want to join me in this adventure. If you let them know that you read this blog and want to join my Dream Team of Losers (yes, I’ve given my little group a name), they’ll take 50% off of your registration costs. If you want more info, send me a message. Or reach out to the Coach here.