Sometimes, the weight loss game seems so.... accessible. So EASY. I think to myself "Sweet, now I've got this upgraded, convenient gym membership, and I know how to do math so I can sure count calories / points," and then reality sets in and EVERYTHING feels Just. So. Hard.
Right now is one of those "Just. So. Hard." times.
As soon as I found my groove of exercise + work, I had a business trip to Orlando -- and now I'm sick with a(nother) cold, and unable to work out. Frustration doesn't even begin to describe it.
I feel like I woke up fat in Florida. Does that make sense? Like, I'd been teetering on the brink of chubby for a while, dancing around the edges of a frozen lake, thinking "oh, la la la, my pants are a little tight" and "oh, I don't like my tummy right now," and suddenly, in Florida, I went down in the middle of the lake, flailing, through the ice, unable to grasp a breath or a good hold on the ice that kept breaking beneath me.
I dare say -- I feel a little bit out of control.
(and for a self-proclaimed control freak, that's saying a mouthful)
The social life has been psychotic lately -- a state which I truly dislike. I love Tuesday bowling nights, but when they are followed by a Wednesday family dinner and then Friday happy hour and a later-night party, I kinda want to cry.
Why is this so hard for me?
I'm watching a story about Corey Haim on the news right now -- a bright, talented, attractive young man that fell victim to drugs and died. I'd love to say I feel sorry for him, but... um, you do drugs, you're probably gonna die. But then I think about my own situation, and the sorrow I'm feeling right now about what I'll call "the loss of my body," and I think... well, dummy, you eat pizza, you get fat.
That's just how it is.
If I were writing a discertation, clearly my theme would be "balance" because I keep going back to it: my need for it, craving or it, clear inability to find / hold onto it, and how difficult it is to figure all that out. Once again I'm astounded by how working mom's manage to do it all -- especially those that are skinny. I guess it's just genetics, but I can't even imagine what life must be like for somebody like my skinny co-worker JR -- JR is the mother of 5 (the youngest two still babies), a high-powered marketing manager, and a perfect size 6. She has a body I'd kill for, eats without thougth, and from what I can tell, she doesn't exercise, doesn't give a second thought about food or movement - just about getting the work done and getting her kids to dance lessons and day care.
I would love to know what THAT life is like (okay, without the 5 kids, but with the high-speed-train metabolism).
I do remember what it was like to feel really comfortable in my own skin -- to be able to be able to walk into a store and pretty much have everything look good on me -- to crave cameras, rather than shy away... to stand in front of the big mirror at the gym, lifting weights, and feeling like the healthiest person on planet earth. To wake up and run 10 miles before my day even started.
But those day are gone, and although I'm far from where I've started, I do feel like I've backtracked a lot.
And being sick definitely doesn't help.
And being way too busy doesn't either.
I'm heading to AZ on a vacation in a few weeks, and while I'm looking forward to it, I'm also NOT because I know it's going to be filled with moments of feeling bad about my body; not fitting into clothes; not wanting to be in a bathing suit, in our private pool and spa. I need clothing, but I don't want to spend the money. Yadda yadda yadda. It's like a flashback to 2003.
I hate this feeling. HATE it. I stepped on the scale this morning and once again wanted to cry.
This morning, my day started out with my resistance to get movin'. Everything felt like a herculean task. Not only did I not wanna get in the shower, I didn't wanna pack my lunch, make my breakfast, or dry my hair.
But I FORCED myself to do it -- and now -- 3 PM -- I'm quite pleased that I did. I've downed over 64 oz of water (going for 120 today!), and my gym bag is packed quite soundly in my car... food choices have been natural and easy today, for reasons that I cannot fathom. I feel satisfied and comfortable -- not packed full of food, not hungry, and not craving things. It's a nice change.
Today. I just need to get through today. Tomorrow will be another day and I can deal with it then. But today.... I get to "vote with my fork" three times today.
Time to go cast my breakfast ballot.
B: egg, evoo, english muffin, goat cheese
L: ham and cheese lettuce wrap, pretzles, veggies w/ hummus, ginger snaps
S: veggies w/ laughing cow
D: meat loaf, vegetables
In the past, whenever I've felt like this about my weight, I've hid it from the world -- which usually results in "eating my feelings" instead of sharing them -- very counterproductive, though I never have the presence of mind to realize it in the moment. This time, I'm putting it all out there: I'm fat, and I'm mad about it, and I'm going to kick it in the butt this time.
Off and running,