This is the post that I have been dreading. I know I've needed to tell you all how my diet is going, and I just haven't wanted to. I wont lie to you, so that means I have to tell you that I've been failing, and that's just not something I've wanted to do. If I'm being perfectly honest, I've got to tell you that even though I've been busy, the bigger reason I haven't posted much lately is that I don't want to disappoint you all and tell you that I haven't been working out, eating right, or even attempting to meet any of my goals. And that's exactly what I used to do. That's exactly what got me to 260 pounds, that's exactly what I promised myself, and all of you, that I was not going to do this time. It really hurts to realize that I hadn't really changed. Well, I did change, but I guess it wasn't permanent. It hurts me most to know that some of you read this blog and find me inspiring, and I feel like I have absolutely failed you. I'm used to failing myself, but when it affects other people, that's just unacceptable to me.
I know exactly when it happened, too. It was the week I was supposed to start Week 4 of C25k, and I started this big project at work that had me moving a ton of stuff. Work was kicking my butt, and I was too lazy to make myself work at work, and work at home. It sent me on a downward spiral of laziness. I got out of the habit, and damn it's easy to get out of the habit. Why is this so hard to do? Why is it so easy to get out of the workout habit, and so freaking hard to get out of the laziness habit? I know I need to do it...it would improve so many areas of my life if I were less lazy. It would make my husband's life easier. My MIL would think more highly of me. My house would be a lot cleaner. I would quit feeling so paranoid at work. I would actually be able to say I accomplished things.
And it feels good to be able to say I accomplish things. I'm proud of the ten pounds I've lost so far. It feels great to know that my goal weight is only 50 pounds away now, instead of 60. I feel great when I'm so tired and sweaty after a treadmill 5k that I can barely stand up. I live in the daydreams that one day I'll feel comfortable in a swimsuit. I want these things. I really, really want to be healthy and to feel pretty in my own skin. I want it, but I sure as hell don't want to work for it. Therein lies the rub. Or, maybe Shakespeare will forgive me if I say, "Therein lies the lazy".
I'm disappointed in myself for failing. I'm disappointed in myself for making yet another attempt and not pulling through. I'm disappointed in myself for continuing to drag you along, saying, "This is it. This is the week that I'm going to get back on track. Do you believe me?", and you do. And then I become a liar - I turn myself into a liar. I hate liars.
And I don't blame you if you don't believe me right now when I say that this is it. Again. Is this it for the last time? I want to pull out my Eternal Optimist card and say "Hell yes!", but as eternally optimistic as I may be, I've still got a healthy dose of reality in my world. I'm human. I fail. I have failed, and I will fail. It's all about "Fall seven times, stand up eight". If I have to lose this weight ten pounds in five months at a time, then that's what I've got to do. It's not a race. It's not a competition. It's my life.
I feel like I'm two people - stick with me here - I've got the miserable, lazy, fat Mrs. B. who is just dying to be thin but doesn't want to do anything about it, and I've got the motivated, confident, active, healthy Mrs. B. who's just fighting like hell to get out from under her. The fat me has just plopped all 250 pounds of misery right on top of my skinny, healthy me, and she can't fight back. She's just stuck under there.
Here's the part where it may get too wishy-washy for you, but hear me out. Now, I'm trying to visualize my little, skinny me getting stronger and stronger, and my big, fat, miserable me shrinking away, until one day, healthy me crawls out from under her for good. It's not just food, though, that makes this whole thing hard. Laziness, family, bills, stress, time - all of this stuff just keeps feeding my Fat Me and squishing Skinny Me into the ground. It's a struggle, a fight. A battle between good and evil. Between instant gratification and wallowing in self-pity, and fighting for what's right. The stronger Skinny Me gets, the easier it will be for her to fight back against all those things that are pulling her down.
I know that "And I'm Telling You I'm Not Going" is about a woman not wanting her man to leave, but listening to it lately has kind of become the story between the two me's. Skinny Me's not going to back down. Not going to give up. Skinny Me's not going anywhere. And Fat Me's gonna love Skinny Me enough to let her get stronger and do her thing.
"Tear down the mountains,
Yell scream and shout,
You can say what you want,
I'm not walking out.
Stop all the rivers,
Push, strike and kill,
I'm not gonna leave you,
There's no way I will.
You're gonna love me."
Get the fuck off my Skinny Me.
Get the fuck off my Skinny Me.