I am not going to say that I have failed. But it FEEEEEELS like I have failed. I know it is simply a minor setback. And considering, it IS minor. But for the girl who has taken pride in her awesome weight loss over the last year, this is a sucker punch in the tummy. My flabby flabby tummy.
Now in all fairness, this has nothing to do with how well the diet works. It has everything to do with how I work. I suppose that you could say that I totally got caught up in the hype of Mardi Gras, except that I am a breed of Christianity that doesn’t participate in Lent. (I do, however, take pride in celebrating Lint. You should see the size of the Lint ball I am collecting from the dryer…)
But, back to Fat Tuesday… 179. I am not even joking. And now you know why I feel like a pseudo failure. I know, I know. It could be a lot worse. IT HAS been a lot worse. But today, shortly after my mountain top experience from the play and Valentines weekend, 179 is a little hard to swallow.
What was not hard to swallow were the Domino’s Bread Bowls that Matt and I ordered last night at 10 o’clock. And consumed to the bottom of the box. Or the cupcakes that we STILL have on top of the fridge that were left over from Sleepy Creek this weekend. Or the regular coke.
If it sounds like I am whining a little, you might be right. I kind of am. But it is a whine born out of frustration, and that is far from bad. Analyzing the bitter and sometime unpleasant truths brings freedom. You can’t break free till you realize you are enslaved to something. So I gotta break this prison of fat down. Face the truth. I have let my circumstances and feelings dictate my diet and energy level. And that is NO BUENO. Every fiber of my being wants to bash myself over and over about this. But I’m not going to fall into that trap. Instead, I’m gonna get to the bottom of the problem.
If I go back and read all my posts from the last year, from January to June when I was really rocking the diet, there are a few elements there that I have not carried over into this year.
1. Dieting is fun WHEN IT WORKS. Rather, when I am working it. But the second I get stuck on a plateau or have a gain, like I have been experiencing for days weeks months now- it becomes a chore. It takes the thrill of losing a pound away from you. I have gained and lost the same 8 pounds over and over again. Probably have experienced an extra 40 pounds in weight loss with those same 8 pounds. When did I start to lose the fun factor? When I started stressing out a little too much. I eat when I am stressed.
2. (My mom is going to go ballistic with joy when she sees me admit this one.) We stopped going to church. I know, that seems like something silly, but we haven’t found a church to attend regularly. That really is a big issue with me. Faith is important. You have to believe in something. Not to say that I haven’t experienced God in mighty mighty ways over the past few months. Because I have. He and I have gotten very close. But I have missed being a part of a body. I replaced things like family and walking group with having my soul and spirit refreshed with worshiping in a body of believers. Like I said, I am looking at the things that have changed that may (or may not) play a part in why I am stuck. I wonder if this has anything to do with it?
3. I saw that I was coming down to the wire of the goal, and thought I might lose my bloggy audience. You all have no idea how this blog has changed me. You are precious to me, and I didn’t want to lose you because I got skinny. Not that that would happen, and I know I am going to hear about that on my comments forum. But it’s the truth. If I couldn’t turn to you gals, I think I just might lose my mind. This blog has transformed my opinion of what is important in life- I know that it’s gut wrenching honesty, being honest when it’s ugly, and being myself. Drama crazed slightly to completely neurotic Charlie, no holds barred. This blog has wiped away any fears I ever had that I wasn’t accepted by other women. I should send you all a thank you card for every time you ever clicked on this blog. All 11,000 times.
OK, I’m going to stop there for today, because I have a crap ton of laundry to do. But that’s where I am today, folks. It’s appropriate for Ash Wednesday I guess, wearing the sack cloth of grief and all.
But the weird thing is that I’m not sad. I’m just mad. I’m frustrated. And the difference is all the difference. Frustration stirs a girl to action. It breaths fire in your desperate bones and makes you reach out to something great. It determines the course you are about to set out upon.
So- no lectures about diet foods or getting exercise. Simply a woman who is admitting that she has done more than blow it. She has set herself back by a month, and is saying that she wants to do something about it. She wants to change. She wants to grow past this point. She wants to lose these pounds she has gained back and be the example I know I can be.
Fat Tuesday may have been delicious- but no amount of food in the world can equal how delicious I can look if I get my big butt back on track.