My Year

Yesterday I said I wouldn’t say “2017 is MY year”, but guess what?  I’m going to say it anyway.  So what if I’ve said it before?  So what if I’ve failed before?

I like this quote from Thomas Edison.  I have found many, many ways that didn’t work for me.  Time for me to find what does.

When I joined my gym, a consultation with a personal trainer was included.  I met with him last night.  Of course we worked out, but the most motivating part was sitting in his office, talking to him and answering his questions.  When he asked me how motivated I feel, on a scale of 1 to 10, I told him, “My motivation is high, but so is my discouragement, because I have failed so many times.  I can’t get out of my head that I just can’t do this.”

The trainer reminded me of a less hyper, more serious Bob Harper.  He put down his pen when I said that and told me that yo-yoing has a lot of negative effects, including psychological.  I can’t remember exactly what he said, but I do remember how he looked when he said it, almost leaning across the desk to emphasize that I can do it.  I still don’t fully believe it, since it will take some time to shake off this dust and disappointment, but I sure as hell want to try.

I have way too many events coming up this new year to waste time and add one more year to the accumulated time that I’ve been overweight and miles from my goal.  My oldest stepson graduates in June, and I will be getting married this year, to name just two!  I want to feel good, and definitely look good, especially in the wedding pictures, since we already have a space reserved on the fireplace mantel for our wedding picture. I don’t want to cringe every time I look at it.  I want to feel happy and proud and healthy, and look at that picture and know I earned how I look.

I want the kids to be proud of my hard work.  I want them to have a strong, fit, healthy female role model in their lives.  I should have lost this weight years ago.  I don’t put myself down or moan and whine about my weight to them, but naturally they can see that I am overweight and out of shape. Their egg donor makes things worse by blabbing non-stop about her weight, criticizing other women for theirs, and basically making the kids hyper-aware of weight, especially for women.  I want to offset that with positive and healthy attitudes and behaviors, neutralize some of that damn negativity.

I’ve waited far too long to lose this weight and the self-consciousness and disappointment that comes along with it.  I’m embarrassed that I have let it go this long.  There is no excuse for it.  But I can start making changes now to ensure that I start moving toward my goals and make 2017 my year, after all.

Need to Think

If you hear a shrill, horrifying, and piercing scream early tomorrow morning, don’t worry.  It’s not a late Halloween movie or a grisly crime scene in progress.  It’s just me, stepping onto the scale after nearly two weeks of minimal workouts and endlessly stuffing my face.  It’s not going to pretty.  I might have tranquilizers on stand-by.

One thing I’ve learned from this most recent fall-on-my-face episode is that I need to build in changing things up and making shifts to my routine.  I get bored very easily with workout routines, or any routine, for that matter: counting calories, counting Weight Watchers points, tracking exercise minutes, you name it.  I burn out fast and need change to keep me interested.

I need to do some thinking this weekend about things I need to change and do differently.  I need to find what works for me, then find out how to keep doing it, not do it for a few weeks then gain it all back. Change motivates me.  There was nothing inherently magical about Weight Watchers, but it was different.  It was something new to learn and interest me and keep me motivated, but only for a little while.

So what’s up next for me?  I’m not sure yet.  I will work out this evening, weigh in tomorrow morning, let that scary number sink into my brain, and brainstorm how to get from there to where I ultimately want to be.  I’m not ready to give up on actually getting there, someday.

Highest Weight

My highest weight ever was 210 pounds.  I remember seeing pictures of myself at that weight and cringing.  I am not terribly tall (okay, I barely broke 5’3″), so extra weight is glaringly obvious on me. Seventy extra pounds?  Pretty freakin’ obvious.

Last Saturday, I weighed in at 209.4 pounds.  Barely half a pound away from my highest weight ever. It was sobering.  And horrifying.  And depressing.

I can’t believe I am back to my highest weight.  I can’t believe I let myself gain and gain until I look and feel like this again.  It’s beyond embarrassing.  It’s mortifying.

*Deep breath*  Okay, so this is my new starting point.  I’m not happy.  I hate how I look.  I hate how I feel.  I’m shocked I let myself get back to this weight, but standing around feeling embarrassed and dumb-founded isn’t going to change anything.

Speaking of change…something needs to change. A lot of somethings need to change.  Going through the motions of logging food online and working out when the mood strikes clearly isn’t working for me.

I need to put serious thought to what worked for me before and then make some changes to get back to that.  If a paper food diary works better, then screw the smartphone and the fancy website!  Back to paper it is.  Weekly weigh-ins, blogging more often, no-excuses workouts.

This would be so much easier if I had a less frenzied schedule, but life is what it is, and I need to work around it, because life sure isn’t going to bow down and ask me how it can accommodate me better, right?

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