Single Mom Slice Of Change:
The New 311
Ok, we’ll just skip over the fact that I’ve been offline for the last couple of months. Let’s just skip to where I’m at now…
Which sadly, isn’t all that far from where I left you.
See, for the first time in a long time, I did not weigh 311 pounds. I lost a little weight, got a good review from the doctor, bought a new pair of jeans, and all was right with the world. I was feeling myself. I was proud of myself. I stopped working quite so hard.
Why would I have to? Remember the new jeans? Well, people were commenting on them. Clearly, I made a difference. The doctor said so.
So, I skipped a meal here… overate a little there… but it was okay because… well… I joined a gym.
The problem became, that while I was super excited to have lost 30 pounds, and I basked in the praise and “wow” comments I was receiving, I got stuck. This was an amazing place to be… and because it was so amazing, it’s where I’ve stayed.
For all the “wow” comments from friends and co-workers, there is one voice that stands out each time I take a bite of something I admittedly know I shouldn’t. That would be the voice of the nutritionist/personal trainer saying, “Yeah, if you were REALLY trying, you would lose 20 pounds in a month. Just sayin’.”
Between that, and the, “For every step forward, you’re taking 3 steps back”… that’s a pretty loud voice in my head.
It’s not, however, louder than the voice that says, “mmmmm…. Egg burritos”, or “mmmmm… salad with ranch dressing”, but it’s there.
Now, some will roll their eyes, other’s will have snide comments, but the fact remains, that voice is loud. Yes, for every step forward, I’m jumping three back, but – and I’m not rationalizing anything here – it’s still a step forward, and an acknowledgment of those jumps back. I get that I’m doing more harm than good, but I also recognize that for the first time in – well – EVER – I’m conscious of it. Yes, there is a slip here, and a fall there… but gone are the days of plunging head first into bad decisions and (literally) feeding those bad decisions with guilt and regret.
Related: Single Mom Slice Of Change: The Power Of Tough (Self) Love
Each time I get back on the horse, it’s a bigger, sturdier horse. My bad choices used to be pizza, nachos, loaded baked potatoes and entire bags of Funyons. Note that now my bad choices are eggs and salads.
I’m getting there. Slowly.
I am well aware that there are people who are upset that it’s taking a lot longer than it should take, and there are still others who simply don’t understand. Those are people not in my shoes, not wearing my new jeans, and not battling 40+ years of physical, emotional, and mental food abuse issues.
In the meantime, I am learning to change the way in which I eat through my life. It’s a little like learning to write with the opposite hand… it’s a freaking mess to start with, but eventually you’ll be able to sign your name with ease.
Until next time, ask yourself… have you ever really thought about how long 40+ years is… or how hard it is to change?