I don’t believe I have ever thought a weekend was simply much too long, but seriously, sometimes they fly by so fast, it’s crazy. This past weekend was one of those. I spent yesterday evening in complete denial that I had to come back to work this morning.
My weigh-in on Saturday was so-so: I maintained. Great, it wasn’t a gain, but it wasn’t a loss either. As hectic and busy as things have been lately, I suppose a maintain is a good thing, but I would definitely like to see a loss this week.
After the way I ate and skipped several workouts last week, I fully expected a gain when I weighed in Saturday morning. First, the good news: I didn’t gain, by some miracle. I maintained, down to the ounce, from the week before. Not gaining is good, right?
Now the bad news: I didn’t lose anything. And since my goal is to lose weight, not stay where I am, that means I am not making any progress. That is decidedly not good.
I made a decision after that weigh-in. It’s do or die time. It’s piss or get off the pot time. I can’t stand being unhappy about my weight anymore, especially if I’m not doing a damn thing about it. It’s time to fight for what I want, put in the work, suck it up and do what I need to do to lose this weight.
I forced myself to make a plan. I created a new weigh-in chart with weekly goals counting down to my goal weight. It was sobering. Instead of reaching my goal this summer, like I had hoped, I won’t realistically reach my goal until damn near Christmas.
But I got excited when I saw that I could reach my goal right around my husband’s birthday! That would be so awesome, for several reasons. One, of course, reaching my goal weight is going to be a huge accomplishment and exciting just because it’s something I’ve struggled to do for so long. Reaching my goal around the same time as his birthday would be symbolic and meaningful, because he has been extremely supportive and never judgmental. He’s never given up on me, never acted like my weight lessened me in any way in his eyes, and has loved me no matter what number is on the scale. He has encouraged me when I gained, reassured me when I feel like a monster blob of fat, and has never doubted I will reach my goal, when I am ready and when I really want to.
Last night I knew that it was time to step up my workouts. I need to be careful and make sure I don’t aggravate that pain I had in my heel, so I tested the waters with a step aerobics workout, still plenty sweaty, but no jumping. (And it’s an old workout, so there was also plenty of permed hair, Spandex, scrunchies, and leg-warmer style socks. Not on me, though. I swear.)
Each day, I need to make the decision that I truly want this and am willing to work hard for it. If I don’t, I am just wasting my time and everyone else’s. It’s time to do this for real and get it done.
Sweat & Sparkle 