Self-Defeating Behavior
Maybe I am actually afraid to be successful at weight loss. It seems to me that if I truly wanted to lose weight, I would just jump on it, right? Yet, as heartfelt as my previous entries were, I have fallen back into some behaviors that have helped to keep me fat. That’s part of the reason that I have not been blogging here. I find it much easier to lie to myself when I am not writing things out.
But yesterday, I had a realization after finding out that a friend’s husband ended up in the hospital and in a 4 day coma- the result of a diabetic attack which may have been avoided if he just took better care of him self. To boot, I amvery active in Go Red, and am very fearful that the extra two people that I am carrying is way too much for my heart. Simply put, I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die because I have too much to live for. Sorry for the cliche.
One of the problems that I have is eating regularly and eating well. I KNOW what I should be eating, more or less, but I don’t know how to determine portion size, and better yet, I don’t know go grocery shopping on a regular basis which leads me to order out a lot. we only have one car so when my hubby is at work, I am stuck in the house because there are no stores in walking distance and taking the bus with a toddler and groceries is just not doable.
I have been looking into home-delivery meal plans. I am really liking Fresh Dining. It seems like a great plan, but it is so expensive up front. Granted, I… Continue reading
The Beginning
I guess there is no better place to start. I am fat. OK, I am obese. She thought that she had the “biggest knickers in the world,” but the truth is that her knickers pale in comparison. And while I am attempting make a sorry joke of this, the fact of the matter is that I cannot make a joke of how I feel. Forget how I look. How I look is no match for how I feel and that speaks volumes.
I entered the New Year, guns blazing reading to kick some fat butt. And I was doing well, until one night of slipping turned into to a week and then three. And now, here I sit, 10 pounds heavier than when I started and 10 times angrier than ever before.
My hairdresser remarked one day, thinking it was funny, that I had such “skinny ankles for your size.” She went on and on about how my ankles are “too skinny to support the rest of me” and that I am “obviously not supposed to be fat”. It was painful to hear, because I DO have skinny ankles and I really do wonder how they hold me up. But it was more painful to hear someone be surprised that I was not always fat.
I was always bigger. But I was always in shape. I was an athlete. I played basketball (and have too many trophies to remind me of that), and volleyball (yep, trophies from that too), and softball (MVP), and track (I could sprint like nobody’s business). But that was so long ago.
That was 15 years ago. That was over 170 pounds ago. That was a lifetime ago and while I long for those days, I know that what truly matters is that I… Continue reading