I am overweight. There is just no denying it. I’m not obese by any means but I am about 25-30 pounds too heavy right now and it’s weighing heavy on my mind. Every time I go to therapy she takes my blood pressure and weighs me. She does this at the end because I think she doesn’t want me to focus on it for the entire hour. Not really. She does it for insurance purposes. But I got my number today and I just couldn’t believe it. I am at the weight I was when I was 24 and I couldn’t believe how big I was and I changed my entire eating plan and started pilates and got down 35 pounds. I know that I am older now but there really is no reason I can’t get back to that or at least almost to that.
K and I went hiking on Saturday and she told me I have to go an entire month without saying I am fat. Since then I think I’ve maybe said it out loud five times but I have thought it about 100 times. And I’m sick of it. It’s just not true. I am not fat. I am just heavier than I’ve been in a very long time. I think I probably should have a consequence for saying I’m fat. Instead of a dollar jar, every time I say it I will be forced to have a bite of chicken pot pie (my nightmare).* Or even better, I would be forced to drink a ginger/parsley smoothie. That would really make me think twice before I put myself down like that.
About four years ago I went on a med for three weeks and it made me gain 11 pounds in three weeks. I remember eating an entire bag of candy corn on my way to work. It was weird. I knew I was eating too much but I just couldn’t stop and then after three weeks something clicked and I immediately got off that medicine from hell. What I am getting at here is I’ve had a very hard time losing that 11 pounds since. And I’ve gained more than that.
What’s weird is I am still a size 10 and sometimes a size 8 but I want to fit into my 6 pants again. Last month I took all my clothes that no longer fit and put it in the guest closet because I just couldn’t look at them anymore. When I look at myself I see it most in my stomach and my boobs. I mean come on, I know those babies are huge and I blame Tricia Z. for that. She was my best friend in elementary school. She developed her boobs early in life and I was so jealous that I prayed and prayed for bigger boobs. Well, that’s what happens when you pray I guess. Now T. is a tiny person with tiny boobs and I’m like a carrot with cantaloupes.
I digress. The only thing that works for me is exercise. When I exercise I lose weight and exercise makes me eat better. But it’s just so hard to get in a groove but today I am going to the gym and today is the new start. I know that I am in pretty good shape because I can hike for 4 hours so I know that I have the ability.
I am actually at a point in my life where I am pretty happy with myself. Probably at a 65-70% level which is very good. I look in the mirror and I like what I see from the neck up at least. So I just want to get up to 85% and be able to look at a full length mirror without groaning.
K has threatened to take away the full length mirror in the bedroom but if that is not there I won’t be able to look at my legs or have a reminder every day that I want to be better.
*Seriously soggy bread. Gross.