Today, I was supposed to get my six week weigh in of the 90 day challenge. At first, I had big goals that I would shed a solid 35 pounds in 12 weeks because I planned to hit it hard and finally take charge. I haven’t hit it hard, but I have started, I have changed how I eat, and I’ve started moving more. It’s not the burst out of the gate I hoped to find, but it is progress.
And yet, I know I’m not going to be happy when I get on that scale, so I didn’t go today. I know I’m going to have some sort of change, maybe 5-8 pounds when I’m secretly (or not so secretly now) hoping for more like 12-15. I’ll be there in the morning, weighing in and feeling like I’ve not done enough.
Will I ever be strong enough to face that stupid machine without a loss of self assurance or self worth? Will I ever not want to run over a scale with my car?
I am very aware of the fact I will never be 118 pounds healthy again. The last time I weighed that, I was 13 and in junior high. I hit puberty early, so my curve and bumps I translated into “I’m fat” instead of “hey, check it out. I can fill out more than a training bra!” You’d think after reading “Are you There God It’s Me Margaret” about six times, I’d be thrilled to have hit puberty before all my friends. Nope, I was kind of freaked by it. That, along with a youth counselor telling me at church that “being fat was a sin against God” I felt pretty low. (Gee, thanks youth counselor. You really motivate me to be better to serve Him. Now I’m going to eat an entire frozen pizza and a bowl of Bluebell to celebrate my new outlook on life!)
Even when I’m working hard and working out, I always feel disappointed with myself after seeing a number on a stupid, stupid machine. “I could have done ten more minutes on the treadmill” or “if I hadn’t eaten that extra bite of chicken, I’d be six(ty) pounds lighter.”
But I have to psych myself into believing that small changes will get me there. The story of the turtle and the hare comes to mind, “So and steady wins the race,” was something my grandmother would always say. There is validity to that, but there are days where I simply wish I had a wand and I’d wake up the next day and be a size 8. Oh, man, I know in a year, it’ll be a year and if I start now, I won’t be writing about how I wish I’d started a year ago.
So I will go tomorrow and celebrate even one pound lost because it’s one less pound that I have to lose, right?

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2 Responses to Stalling…again

  1. Shelly says:

    Keep with it. Every pound lost IS a success.

    • patriciawf says:

      Thanks Shelly. I appreciate your support. I had the irrational fear that I was the only one struggling with my weight from our high school and yet, I know there are many of us going through the exact same thing.

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