Time to Do Something

You may have noticed that I haven’t blogged in over a week.  You may also have noticed that my weight ticker now proudly and loudly proclaims that I have lost zero pounds.  That’s right, the ticker that used to brag I had lost 50 pounds is now back to zero.   Zilch, nada, big fat goose egg.  I’m quite the overachiever when it comes to gaining weight back like there’s no tomorrow.

Oh, there’s more good news.  My highest weight used to be 210 pounds.  As of this morning, I have crushed my record and am now at 211.6.  It’s hard to even type that and admit that.  How did I ever let myself get this heavy again?  Why didn’t I stop at some point and make some changes and halt this silliness?

I really didn’t want to come here.  I didn’t want to write this today.  I didn’t want to admit what I’ve done to myself.  But that is exactly what this blog is for, to be honest and to type out my frustrations and ask for support and help.

My next step: making a plan for next week.  I need to get back to tracking my food on MyFitnessPal, back to regular workouts, back to giving a damn what I am doing to myself.  I keep saying I can do better than this.  I keep saying I want to be a good role model for my stepkids.  Instead, I’m sure all they see right now is an out-of-control, food-obsessed fat lady.  That makes my skin crawl, because that is a pretty precise description of Psycho, my stalker, except for the “lady” part, ha.

It’s frightening I let myself get this out of hand.  It goes without saying that it’s time to make changes and do something about it.  And not just blow hot air this time.

Struggle

For some reason, this week has been a struggle.  I have a suspicion it’s because I skipped my workout on Monday and ate a huge dinner that night.  It’s like the green light was switched on to keep going like that for the rest of the week, and now I want to eat, eat, eat.  It was a trigger for bad eating and other bad habits.

I forced myself to work out last night, and I was crabby the entire time.  I hated the workout DVD, I hated the workout moves, I hated the room I was in, ha ha, yes, when I say “crabby”, I mean full-on, no-holds-barred, hissing-and-spitting grumpy.  I finished the 30-minute workout and had intended to add on another short workout for some extra cardio, but I called it a day before I punched a hole in the wall.

I really want a loss this week and to stick to the weight-loss goals I set for each week so I can stay on track for reaching my goal weight before Christmas.  Already thoughts are dashing through my scatter-brained head about going through the drive-through for lunch, even though I have a perfectly good packed lunch sitting in the work fridge.  “It will be the last time!”  Yeah, right.  The last time…until this evening, or tomorrow.  I know myself and my excuses pretty well by now!

Thought-Provoking Quote

I saw this quote today, and unlike most quotes or motivational pictures, which I typically yawn at and promptly ignore, this one stopped me dead in my tracks:

I’ve thought that before, in different forms and different words.  I’ve wondered before how simply being overweight and being unhappy with it hasn’t been enough to motivate me to get moving and lose weight.  
If I would have stayed consistent, if I would have stayed on track, if I would have kept going, then I would have reached my goal weight by now.  If I hadn’t let myself get derailed, if I hadn’t just let myself go, I would be slim and fit and healthy right now, celebrating reaching my goal and strutting around.
It’s hard to face that, especially now that I am back up to my starting weight.  Okay, two pounds away from it, but seriously, those two pounds don’t matter much when I’m least sixty pounds from my goal weight.  It’s not like the weight suddenly and mysteriously appeared overnight.  I did this to myself, day after day, week after week, month after month.  Why wasn’t my increasing unhappiness enough motivation to change?
Well, I’m here now.  For about a week now, I’ve been back to exercising every day.  I’m back to tracking my food on MyFitnessPal.  I even have “finish food diary” scrawled on my to-do list each day so I don’t forget.  Workouts are uncomfortable at best, and I would still much rather chow down on a burger and fries each day than pack my lunch with (yuck) fruit in it, but I know these are the changes I need to make to reach my goal.
It’s just thought-provoking: why wasn’t it motivation enough that I have been so unhappy with how I look and feel for months on end?  Why do I have to actively seek motivation each day and feel so shaky, knowing the littlest setback is going to fling me back into sit-on-my-duff-and-binge mode?
Right now, the kitchen calendar has a shiny star on each day for my workouts.  My goal is to fill the entire month with stars.  I don’t want to get so caught up analyzing my failure that I don’t get excited about my slow progress or small victories, because over time, they are going to add up to me hitting my goal weight and finally being able to strut, ha ha.  

The Last Straw

It’s been almost two weeks since I’ve posted here.  I did exactly what I say I shouldn’t do: I disappeared when I wasn’t doing well.

You may recall the Great Head Lice Battle of 2016 from one of my last posts.  Psycho had over 24 hours notice to treat the house before the kids went back to Hickville, but why bother when you can just make the kids sleep on Snuggies because you never bothered washing their bedding?  The lice shampoo I bought and let the kids take back with them in case they needed another treatment was used exclusively by Psycho, and the kids were left to check each other’s hair over the next two weeks.

We celebrated my 42nd birthday this past weekend.  The kids and my fiance signed my birthday card, and I was very touched by the things they wrote.  One of my presents was a beautiful top, and as soon as I unwrapped it, I felt sad.  It is so pretty, but I saw the short sleeves and instantly thought of my fat arms, saw the fit of the top and knew I would look awful in it.  I love that he thought I would look good in it, but when I tried it on, it just confirmed it.  It’s a gorgeous top, but it looks terrible on me.

It was a last straw for me.  I wanted to be able to wear that top to my birthday dinner, but I couldn’t.  I wanted to be able to unwrap that top and feel joy and excitement, not the sinking feeling that it was going to be a long time before I would be able to wear it.  I wanted to feel beautiful and happy, not upset about being too fat to wear something so pretty.

I am tired of feeling self-conscious when I go to events, because I feel like everyone is wondering how on earth I let myself gain so much weight back.  I am tired of feeling uncomfortable because my clothes are too tight.  I am tired of comparing myself to how I looked when I was in shape.  I am tired of being disappointed in myself.  In short, I am tired of being fat.

There is nothing left to do but (1) either do something about it, or (2) just accept being fat the rest of my life.  I already know that being fat makes me extremely unhappy.  I don’t want to feel like this anymore, let alone the rest of my life.

I want to wear that top.  I want to look good in it.  I want to feel fit and healthy and confident.  I want to like how I look.  I want to enjoy working out again.  I want to be proud of myself.  I want to get this journey started so I can be on my way.

Don’t Want to Just Accept This

We are nearly halfway through April, and what have I accomplished this year so far?  I keep promising to get moving again, then I don’t.  I went to Spinning class this past Monday, then chose to skip workouts every day since then.  I planned to pack my lunch each day this week, then went through drive-through yesterday.

I am within pounds of my highest weight ever. Why doesn’t that jolt me into action? Why have I accepted being this overweight?  I’m uncomfortable, my pants are too tight, I hate how I look, my wardrobe is dwindling, as one by one, my clothes are too tight.  Yet I go right back to eating crap and justifying my skipped workouts.

I don’t know what my issue is.  If I did, I would fix it.

My fiance has never complained about my weight, but he’s watched me gain about 40 pounds since we moved into our house.  He’s probably wondering just how fat I intend to get, ha ha.  He was refinishing some furniture in the workout room, but he cleaned that out for me so I could use that room for workouts again.  I have yet to work out in there since he cleaned it out.

No point to today’s post, just frustrated and ready to slap myself and not quite sure how to get myself back on track again.  I don’t want to give up and simply accept being overweight and unhappy.  That’s just sad.

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