Friday, May 13, 2011
WW Wednesday -- On Friday
It had been a bad couple weeks in my weight-loss journey (cringe. that word.)
But I DID go. I stood on that scale and held my head high. I am not merely a number on a scale, after all.
But I knew better. I knew I gained those -- yes THOSE as in more than one -- pounds because of a lot of unhealthy choices. Lots.
And not out of a place of confidence or power. I'm not going to delve into my personal reasons for unhealthy choices, but suffice it to say, this is an area where I obviously struggle. Some days/weeks/months are easier, some aren't.
I think most people have some type of issue they struggle with. Self-confidence, anxiety, jealousy, anger-control, spending habits, drinking habits... you name it.
That's why I'm not afraid to share that this is a struggle for me.
No one wakes up and says, "You know what I think would be fun? Not fitting into my wardrobe anymore. My waistline is way too small and I think I should add a double-chin to my look. Who says your blood pressure has to be good, anyway?"
My point is, some struggles have obvious side effects.
Back to Wednesday, I attended my meeting and was furious when I got in the car. I mean spitting mad. I don't really get that way often, and I didn't exactly know why the emotion I felt was ANGER.
I later realized it was because I felt like my gain was because I had lost control. I had felt powerless to intense cravings and old habits I thought I'd broken.
Slowly but surely I had wandered so far off the set path, that I no longer knew which way to go.
Once I realized this, I felt more at peace with my recent eating habits. It was done. Over. Now to move on.
Moving on felt SO HARD, though.
I asked several people who help me on this journey (blech) to say something to motivate me, kick me in the ass, SOMETHING...
Nothing was really working. The task before me seemed harder than ever.
And then I went swimsuit shopping.
If only my chubby white legs were this cute. :)
You see, it's not that I thought I looked that bad or anything, it really wasn't a body-image issue. I just think nearly every woman out there would rather iron 74 pleated skirts than try on bathing suits.
You go in that florescently-lit cube of hope, scented by the faint whisper of bare feet and shame, put the first swimsuit of the season over your pale skin, and view the unsympathetic truth that is your body.
I'm not saying it's always bad, but it IS always honest.
I asked for a kick in the ass to reinvigorate my efforts.
I sure got it.
See you next Wednesday. You better believe I'll be back.
Posted by Cayce at Friday, May 13, 2011