Tummy Trouble

So here we are. It’s almost the end of January.

ALREADY.

I don’t know about you, but this month has flown past me. I’ve been working on lines, walking, trying desperately to get back on track with dieting, cleaning….all the things I should have been doing all along!


And I have exactly 23 days left before Matt and I step on stage and do our show.


YIKES!!!!

And not that I am obsessive or anything, but I never did have the heart to throw away the old scale. I have it setting next to the new scale. And I use both of them every morning, because it turns out the new scale is more Eeeee-Vil than the old one. Darn technology.


Here I sit, holding at 170 yet again, wondering why in the world my body is stuck.


In the beginning, it was pretty easy. My body wanted to lose the weight, but my head didn’t. Now it has flip flopped, and my head REALLY wants to lose the weight and the body won’t cooperate. Which is frustrating.


I have heard the expression that “the definition of stupidity is doing the same thing over and over again expecting different results.”


So dieting is stupid. It’s a confirmed fact.


It’s not like I don’t already know this. The whole blog is devoted to the stupid things I have done during the diet, and my severe lack of bladder and bowel control. And periods. We can’t forget those. (No matter how hard we try…)


The question remains today: Am I really investing in the diet to lose weight, or am I simply playing along with the bare minimum to maintain the work I have done?


The victim part of me screams “It’s not my fault! I’m trying! I’m trying!”


But the Real Charlie that’s in there has another thought…


“You aren’t pushing yourself. A mother bird throws her babies out of the nest so they will be forced to fly. You need a push, Charlie. A big PUSH.”


It’s all come down to this. I know of no other way to push this draggin’ her feet girl than by exposing her deepest fears. And using photographic proof.


So. Here’s my big push.


That’s right. I’m showing you a picture of my "had 3 kids, got fat, lost weight and now it’s super flabby and striped and ugly" tummy. Ironically enough, they- the stretch marks- camoflouge well with my zebra PJ pants.


Brace yourselves.

(Isn’t Matt a lucky guy to have ALL THIS???? He also gets boobs that are 3 feet long!)

Why am I showing you this? This- disgusting photo of my personal shame?

That’s exactly why. It’s my personal shame. The part that never gets exposed. Like the tops of my arms used to be. They are still flabby too, but not as bad as the tummy. It’s the reason I treat my girdles like close friends. Cause of all this yuckiness. This is the part of me that never sees the light. (For good reason, obviously…I even make Matt turn off the lights when we get to know each other in a Biblical sense!) But, I have learned when I share parts of me with you that I don’t want to share with anyone else, something changes. Something happens. A light switch gets turned on, and I feel the fire of desire to change.

And it's proof positive that I need to- must!!!!!- change what I am doing so I can get rid of this tummy. I need to work harder, diet smarter, exercise more often, and even (big gulp) do situps.

You can’t change things about you that you don’t like until you fully understand what has to happen to change them. Showing you this picture is humbling, to say the least. And humility gives me courage. Courage to face my tummy, and work harder. Courage to change.

I have a favor to ask of you. I know lots of you are Blurking. Lurking out there on my blog, reading often, but not leaving comments. I have taken a step towards change by posting an intimate piece of myself for you to see, so you know you aren’t alone. Won’t you please, today, in honor of my terrible tummy, leave a comment or become a follower? So I can read that having to endure taking pictures of my stomach wasn’t for nothing?

Give yourself a push, and leave a comment or follow the blog. Let me know you are out there working towards change too. I need it after this. 'Cause this was worse than going to the OB/GYN.