Okay, so here I am again. My jeans are tight. My summer wardrobe will once again consist of baggy tee shirts and jeans (or jean capris if it is really warm). I'll be turning down quite a few social engagements because I don't have anything to wear and refuse to go get clothes in a bigger size. I'm disgusted as I sit here and type and see the muffin top that is more like a full blown cake.
It wasn't like this a month ago, or nine months ago. Last summer I got 'serious.' I had an accountability partner. I started exercising, for real. I counted calories! I was in a weigh-loss Bible study, y'all. I mean it when I say that things were going good. In total, I lost around 15lbs. I was happy and energetic. I even got to the point when I enjoyed exercise. "So, what happened?" you ask. I remember it SO clearly. We went to visit my parents. My mom cooked. She doesn't cook for us super often, but I'm not lying when I tell you that my mom is an AMAZING cook. When we sat down, she apologized. She knew that I had been working at it and had seen results and her delectable Southern offerings weren't exactly in my meal plan. I told her it was no big and helped myself to more butter dripping green beans and an extra roll. I had kinda 'earned' it after all. And my plan was not denying myself, but rather I was just eating less calories that I burned. And it was working! I told myself that like after I had splurged on a happy birthday to me meal and cake, I'd just work out a little more the next day. Then the next day came around and I was tired from traveling and the treadmill was in Chas' room so I'd have to wait for him to get up, so I can skip today, right? Then we traveled on the next day to sell our land (Hello, emotional eating! I remember you!). And I couldn't exercise while traveling, it was just too much. It was just going to be 3 days after all and I normally go weekends without exercise. Now, that I was home, I would start back. Only I woke up Monday morning sick. I can't exercise while sick and I don't feel like cooking so, I'll just eat this pizza and start back when I feel better...
I could go on, but I think you get the picture. You see, I can pinpoint everything back to that one meal, but really it started just before that. I can remember putting on an outfit and being TICKLED at how well it fit and how good I felt. That was it. That was the point in which everything began to crumble. After all, I had arrived. I was losing weight and feeling great. This was what it was about. I was doing it all the 'right way,' too. I was eating less and moving more. It was sure to stay off this time. Then one slip led to another and another and another. Sure, I tried to get back on the wagon, but I just couldn't seem to get momentum or traction again. Then the pants kept getting tighter and the sweaters baggier. Winter is a great time for gaining weight.
And now it's spring, with summer just a stone's throw away. I can see the pool from my backporch. Swimsuits and shorts and sun. It should be fun, but I can't enjoy any of it. I'm already stressing about what I'll do and wear. And I hate myself for it. Then I hate myself for hating myself. The cycle is endless and awful. The worst part is that I know what to do. I did it and it worked.
Which is why I HAVE to begin again. Last time, it was a friend who spurred me on. We talked about our struggles with weight and it really kicked me into gear. I began the next day. I was in a situation where it was easy to work out and eat well and then when circumstances changed, I continued. Now, my motivation is different. I'm trying not to focus on the jeans that I'm wearing that are tighter than they should be. I want my focus to be where it should. I want to be healthy, not skinny. I want my cholesterol and blood pressure to go down. I want my body to work for me the way that it should and I want to do this so that I can work for God and heed His call. I can't promise that I'll keep my mind on that motivation. I'm already thinking about buying new and cute clothes, not being self loathing, being able to run with my son, and feeling attractive. I don't want my focus to stay there, though.
It's going to be tough, too. I have a surgery scheduled for tomorrow and I don't know how long I'll be out of commission. I hope it's just a matter of days and not longer. But I am signing up for a 5K in 2 months. Will I be ready? No. Will I make a fool of myself? Probably. Will I have fun anyway? I hope so. I'll be running with a group and they are all skinnier and more fit, but I have to push myself. I have 9 weeks and 2 days to work on it. It's not enough time to be able to run, but it is enough time to hopefully not die when I do it.
I am giving myself 2 weeks to recuperate. I hope I can keep my moto that long. I want to hit it all hardcore, but I don't think it will be feasible. I'll be doing a lot of traveling in June. Regardless, I know what to do. I have to eat less, move more, pray more. I hope to document progress. I hope that I can get on the right track and finally stay there.
