155 pounds
My journey began today.
I've been fat. I've been thin. I've been somewhere in the middle most of my life. My weight and body image have always been an issue and something I think about every few seconds throughout every day for as long as I can remember. The past few months have been "different" for me. I can't explain it and there's no way I could try to make someone else understand it. I've been absolutely miserable in my own skin and I just realized it's surfacing to my exterior. I'm short-tempered, anxious, depressed, angry, easily agitated and difficult to get along with. I hate what I'm doing to myself as I'm eating the junk food but physically can't put the food down. As I unwrap the piece of chocolate I have a full-on argument with myself insisting I'm going to regret it and hate myself in a few minutes but I continue to pop it in my mouth. The food has become stronger than I am. Like I said, I can't explain it. How could I hate being overweight but refuse to change anything about myself? That's the argument constantly on repeat in my mind and when "life" happens (read: parenting, work, travel, everything else...) and interrupts my self-loathing, I snap and become a total bitch. I hate who I've become and I can't find it within myself to change. Talk about a vicious cycle.
Even though I don't act on it, I always think about exercise. While I sit on the couch I think "I should go walk the treadmill downstairs", "I should take the dogs for a walk", "I should go to the gym", "I should do a yoga dvd..." I never do though. The mere thought of exercise causes me anxiety. The thought of all my fat jiggling around forces me to sit still. I don't want to put on a sports bra or change into form-fitting exercise clothes because I don't want to experience the bad feelings of how tight the bra is or just how much bulge there is around my waist and thighs. I hang around the house in sweatpants and hooded sweatshirts so I can't catch glimpses of what's hiding underneath. ...and the cycle continues: hate myself. hate my body. need to exercise. exercise causes anxiety. anxiety is nearly debilitating. stay in sweats on the couch and continue to hate myself.
Let's go back to the gym I mentioned briefly above. I am one of the fortunate people to have a gym membership. You know what's worse than that? Having a membership without financial obligation (read: free) and not using it. So, on top of all the other reasons I feel hatred towards myself and anxiety about exercise let's add guilt for not utilizing something some people would die for. Yeah, I super suck now.
Oh, let's add to that guilt some more. I have kids. Kids with a lot of energy as a matter of fact. I want to be an awesome role model for them and I'm pretty confident that doesn't involve being cranky about hating myself and overweight and immobile. Does it get me off the couch? No. (Enter more guilt and anxiety.)
Cliche' and cheesy but sadly true, I had myself a little awakening today. I couldn't find a good enough excuse or reason to avoid the gym. I had an errand to run and it involved being directly across the street from the gym. During Isla's nap-time while Keith was home with her and Lennon was at Mimi and Papa's house. My afternoon schedule was clear. I guess I could go for a little while...
A Xanax and an hour later I had completed a workout. While running the track I had the epiphany: I'm going to do this every day for 30 days. (I heard about someone who did it for 100 days in a row while on her journey but I know I can't commit to that just yet). Let's up the ante: I'm also going to take selfies after every workout. Oh snap! I'm going to change my diet too. Yeah! I'm going to prepare salads for lunches all week. Let's get super serious: when 30 days is up I'm going to post the journey to Facebook. Oh my God. People will see everything I've tried to hide for so long. It doesn't count if I don't tell anyone, though. That way I can still fail and no one will know anything. If I don't make it to the gym tomorrow then only I will know about this crazy-ass idea I just came up with.
When I got home I told Keith my idea; crap. Now I'm accountable.
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