I like to do things the hard way. I would list all the things I do the hard way, but we would be here for a long time, and who wants that? Not me, and probably not you.
But lately – well, probably longer than lately – I have been struggling with my weight. Like a full out tug-of-war with the scale, with food, with my body. And I know I’m making it harder than it needs to be. I know that I am making it bigger than it needs to be, because in the grand scheme of things I need to lose 10 pounds. That’s it. It’s not a lot, and I still fit in all of my clothes, and I don’t think people I know think to themselves, wow, she’s really let herself go. If they do think that, I hope I never realize it.
I’ve talked about this before here, so none of this will be news, but it’s something I’m continuing to grapple with and sometimes I just have to put it out in the universe so that I can make heads and tails of it. I am slim by nature, but having a baby wreaked havoc on my body. I think to some degree it’s still in trauma mode. Maybe some hormones are evening themselves out. Maybe my metabolism is just different.
Whatever the case, I can’t eat like I used to. I can’t step on the scale (which I do too, too many times per day), grimace at the number, and just cut back on my calories for a few days until things get back to normal. The struggle with the number on the scale is a much tougher one now and I resent that. I resent that I’m 145 pounds instead of 135. I resent that I catch my reflection as I pass by a mirror or a window and my gut reaction is ugh. I hate that 10 pounds is dictating how I view myself as a whole. But it is, and I either have to say “fuck it” (excuse my French, I am practicing for Paris in December) and be okay with this new body, or I have to fight against it.
I am going to be very honest and say that my choice right now is to fight against it.
I realize, on some rational level that is buried beneath all of my irrational, illogical, vain levels, that my body isn’t terrible. That I am not defined by how big my thighs or butt are, or what jiggles when I run. But I think that maybe I’m just not there yet. And for what it’s worth, my diet could absolutely be better, so it’s about both losing weight so I can be skinny again (there’s the vanity part of it) and about feeling good about what I’m feeding my body (healthy thoughts!). It’s 70% about being skinny and 30% about being healthy, but hey. We all have to start somewhere, right?
I’m starting South Beach phase 1 today because my mom recommended it and I am clueless when it comes to diets otherwise. Bye, carbs. I loved you. And sugar. You were cool, too.
Sometimes I like to use this blog as a bit of a diary so that I can see if anyone else feels some of the things I do. I am introverted by nature and can get so caught up in my hamster wheel of a brain that I lose track of what makes sense and what doesn’t. So I use you all, along with my trusty friends and husband (who is so sick of hearing about this that I can no longer talk to him about it), as my barometer for where I am on the scale of hey, that’s normal and Dude.
Anyone else struggling with some stubborn poundage? Do you have words of advice? Or woulds of encouragement? Healthy snack ideas or recipes?! I will take them all!