This POST was voted "Most Likely To Be Totally Worth The Read." And I have the sash that says so. I'm wearing it now while drinking my 7-11 coffee.First of all, I LOVED all of your comments on the post about the Diet Devil.
I hate to be all message-y and when you read my post below, you will run screaming from the computer before you will ever take advice from me again - but (before you lose all respect for me) let me say this one thing - we are all too hard on ourselves.
If you have a bad day, if your Diet Devil has wrestled you to the ground after convincing you that Ben & Jerry's and Nachos make a sensible snack, just ya know, start over tomorrow.
Forgive and forget.
If I had done that over these past three years instead of just digging myself deeper and deeper into a situation where fat girl jeans were required, I'd be so much happier.
They say the longer you do something, the more it becomes a habit. I'm on day... 36 or 37 of stellar eating and I'm seeing stellar results. The more days of good, healthful, "broccoli tastes just like candy!" I can string together, the more it feels like a way of life and the less it feels like unbridled torture.
Now here's my story... the one I'm mortified to tell you. The one in which, I, of a voluminous butt and jiggly old lady underarms, ran behind a car so people I haven't seen in three years would not see me.
Yeah, I did that.
Because I wasn't wearing a t-shirt that said, "Hey, awkward. We haven't seen each other in three years and I look like I gained a second grader around my middle and I'm totally embarrassed but just so you know - this is a totally temporary situation. If you are coming around the corner, in like six months, watch out, 'cuz I'm just gonna be that hot. And by hot, I mean, I will posses thighs that do not rub together."
I looked for that t-shirt at The Gap but they were out of XL.
It happened tonight. I was coming home from the dog park and there was this couple I haven't seen in years and they were walking on my street and I just felt... um, uncomfortable in this bigger body. I know I'm all ra-ra and "Don't let your big butt get in the way of your big life" and then I go duck behind a car but...
Yeah, I did that.
I've had this thing drilled in my head from my family and yes, I know it's a bad thing and I know it's a wrong thing, but it's still a thing. And it's that being heavy is a sign of weakness. That you must be weak to let that happen. That I must be weak.
It's really hard to admit that is in me, that to a degree I believe that.
But there's another thing I believe and that is, that it makes you super strong to turn what seems like an impossible situation (a big weight gain and a butt made from donuts and margaritas) - a situation that would be so much easier to stay in, to wallow in and to make worse (pound by pound) - it makes you super strong if you try and change that situation.
That's what I'm doing now. On the treadmill or putting spinach in my egg whites or not eating after 7pm or saying no to yummy dark beer and yes to apples instead of chips or ordering black coffee instead of lattes.
And even when it's felt like the results are agonizingly slow and even though I sometimes stop and beat myself up about why I would ever put myself in this situation, I think, "At least I'm doing it. At least, I finally took control and I'm doing it."
Then I breathe a sigh of frickin' relief. Two pounds lost has become six and then ten and then twelve (and a half... don't forget the halves, they add up.)
So, I'll try to not beat myself up, I will shut the brain door on thinking I'm weak and I will really, really try and stop ducking behind cars at night when I see people I'm not ready to see.
Because strong people know what they're doing and don't care what other people think.
This blog is dedicated to Jeeps with their wide ends for hiding behind.
