This has been a long time coming.
I had visions of writing a joyous post once I had finally reached my goal weight. I would write about how I can finally move on from the mentality of being a fat girl trying to lose weight. There would be some picture of me standing in one of the legs of my biggest pair of jeans. I might end up as one of those before-and-after motivational pictures on Pinterest, with some inspirational quote underneath. And I would say "Self, now you can be happy. You finally reached your goal."
What if I never reach that number I picked out of the air? What if I continue to be a slave to the scale, even though I long ago admitted it wasn't the best way to judge my progress?
I've been in the process of trying to lose weight for nearly half of my life. That is a hell of a long time to be hurdling towards something and feeling the constant self-induced pressure of it not being enough. That is a long time to be in a state of deprivation and sacrifice. It's a long time to focus on a narrow-minded goal that I might never attain.
I can't live my life like this anymore.
I used to motivate myself but thinking about all the fantastic things I would be doing when I lost weight. Wearing a bathing suit with confidence. Going out with friends and eating like a "normal" person, not having to worry about how many calories my meal was costing me. Turning heads and making construction workers whistle. These were my indicators of success.
I saw a friend I haven't seen in a while the other day, and he paid me the highest compliment: "You look so fit." The first thing that ran through my mind was "Yeah, but I still have that pair of size 8 jeans I can't fit into yet." When I really sit down and reflect on the last five years of my life, this is what it boils down to. It's never good enough. I'm not a quitter, I'm in this for the long haul. I want the life I deserve, and I can't have it until I am happy with how I look in the mirror.
Why can't I be happy with how I look in the mirror now?
I've had a lot of external sources telling me it's time for a paradigm shift. I don't want to keep being the person who is miserable of a number on a scale or she can't fit into the jeans she wants to. What kind of life am I living?
My very wise cousin made a rather poignant observation - "Maybe you just need to be."
So that's what I'm going to do. I'm going to make a commitment to myself to do something that makes me happy everyday. I'm going to start appreciating my accomplishments and enjoying my body for what it is, instead of berating it for not being what I think it should. And I'm putting the fucking scale away.
|A new leaf.|