I struggle with my weight. There I said it. Everyday, it's on my mind. All. The. Time. I pretend that no one knows and I wear something baggy and convince myself I'll lose 10 pounds starting next week. I feel ashamed constantly because I worked so hard to lose weight only to gain weight again. "It won't always be this way", I tell myself, "someday something will click and it will finally be easy and I won't want to eat carbs. I'll look at my salad (without dressing) with complete satisfaction because bread just doesn't appeal to me anymore." The reality for me is, I reach a goal and then fight for my life to hang onto it. And then life gets busy or something changes and I end up gaining it back because it's too hard not to. If I have a bad day and my defenses are down, I don't have the willpower I need to make the right choice. And I really don't care about what the number on the scale is, I would just love to get dressed up to go on a date with my husband and for my jeans to fit and to not absolutely HATE MYSELF. Have you ever had a moment like that? When you've done everything you think you can do to look pretty and then you put that dress on that fit just right a few months ago and suddenly the whole night is ruined. Why is it ruined? Because if you're like me, you spend the rest of the night in your head thinking about how terrible you look and that's if you even go. I can't tell you how many times I've flaked out on something just because I didn't want to be seen. I let absolutely perfect moments pass by right in front of me because all I can think about is how fat I must look.
Tim told me once, "you would never talk to other people the way you talk to yourself." Yep.
And sometimes, hating my body, evolves into a new and even worse mentality than any stupid breakdown about tight jeans. And that mentality is: I don't love myself, so I don't feel like I am worthy of being loved by anyone else.
And sad. And absolutely untrue.
My value isn't determined from a scale.
Does this mean I just give up? No, not at all. It means I work really hard so I can feel like myself again (and so I don't have to buy bigger clothes). And it means that I will order a healthy meal when Tim and I go to dinner and I will prep healthy snacks for work because giving in to every impulse is not loving myself well. And most importantly, it means I stop telling myself those horrible things I've started to believe about myself.
No more saying the words, "I'm giving up...(bread, sugar, carbs of any kind)" because as soon as I do that, I picture myself at 50 looking so sad because I haven't had any carbs in 20 years. I'm done with instantly overwhelming myself with unrealistic diet goals. And because I live in the south and I love biscuits and we all deserve a biscuit every once in a while.
I know I won't always eat the perfect healthy meals. I know I will eat ice cream sometime in the near future and knowing that makes it seem a little bit less daunting to me because who wants to live a life without any ice cream?