[Oh my gosh! Not another post about how wonderful it is to be at goal weight again. I can hardly stand it!]
They say, “The reward for losing weight is looking in the mirror!”
I totally believe it. [Now.]
At first, 12 pounds ago, I thought that’s malarkey! That’s ridiculous. That’s really kind of rude! It’s conceited and self-absorbed. Ya gotta know, at the time I was only looking in the mirror when I absolutely had to. I pretty much avoided any reflection of my big bellybum fat, my muffin top, my expanding thighs and broad rear. I was disgusted with myself and what I had accepted for myself. I was a titch depressed and felt like a total failure. I had failed myself once again! Here, I’ve been associated with the diet/weight industry for years: Diet Center, Weight Watchers, DanceFit. I write a blog about weighing matters, for crying out loud! And I can’t seem to get it right. Or, when I do get it right, I can’t keep it right. I can’t keep it off.
But here I am again, loving myself. Loving my reflection. Stealing glances at myself as I pass a window. Saying to myself, “Hey, good job!” Giving myself a high five, so to speak. And I wonder, why in the world do I wait so long to get the healthy body I really want and need? Why do I keep sliding and letting go of my goals and vision of a healthy life. Why do I let food dominate my life — all my thoughts and feelings? Why do I think food is comfort? Why do I keep this madness such a huge part of my life.
You know they say there must be a ‘payoff’ for it to continue. There must be something I’m getting out of being 10-15 pounds overweight.
I honestly don’t know what it is. What could it possibly be, compared to this? To feeling lighter and happier and more content and a little bit more confident and less self-conscious, less like a big hypocritical dork. What could it possibly be, compared to being able to tie my shoes without passing out from lack of oxygen for those few minutes it takes. And jogging up the stairs instead of lugging myself up them.
Seriously. I don’t get what the pay off to being physically miserable is.
But, for right now, I’m so feeling like myself again. I’m so wanting to dance on the table top. I’m so wanting to accomplish more and be more and amount to more. I’m so wanting to sky dive and bungee jump and snorkel and and buy a red convertible Mustang. I’m so wanting to buy my own craft store and sing in Nashville.
Just want you to know how much difference 12 pounds can make in a person’s life.