So I have been skirting around this whole weight issue for long enough, and boldened by the fact that there are others that join me on this confounded path, I figure -- why not?
Last week I took a little time each night and set out to run. Now, considering the fact that I am ... oh let's see... fat, running is an interesting obstacle. So I walk a bit, I run a bit, I walk a bit, I run... and so on. Each night, a little over a mile. My goal is to eventually not only run the entirety of my path, but to extend my time out there, as well. We shall see. I've only done this for 4 days, and so far, so good. I'm not going to run on Fridays or Saturdays, which means tonight I get to get back out there. The worst part about all of this is that my neighborhood is near a major street in town, so I get to huff and puff down the sidewalk as tons of people zoom past in their cars. I can only imagine what horror I bring these travelers as they are faced with my fat bootie jogging along in front of them. Hopefully no children have nightmares, and no marriages are broken from my desire to get healthy. On the other hand, I look forward to the day when I can sprint down that same street with a cute little tush and killer calf muscles.
Clearly, one mile a night does not a champion make.
Also, for the past 6 days I've been methodically counting my points. Anyone that has ever suffered through a weight watchers class knows what I'm talking about, and for those who don't, feel lucky. But it's easy enough to follow and I'm definitely not starving. At the art festival I had a bbq sammich, and when we went out for dinner I choose steak but just had a slimmer portion. The upside of all this is that my oldest son, who seems to have a problem with gorging himself, is learning portion control as I do.
See, the big secret here is that for as long as I can remember, I have hidden food and eaten so much that I felt sick -- and then continued to eat. The big miracle is that I'm not bed-ridden. But it makes me angry to think how much healthier, and lets face it, cuter(!) I would be if I would stop eating entire bags of M&M's or Doritos in one sitting. When I finally started admitting this to people, I would say that I have no control over what I eat -- that I just can't seem to help myself.
But then I remembered (thanks to my pastor) that there is nothing that has total control over me, nothing that I am powerless to. And after seeing how well I have been taking care of myself this past week, I can finally agree. Anorexics and Bulimics typically do what they do because it is the only thing they feel they have control over. Everything we do, from the way we spend our time to the way we spend our money, to the people we choose to love, is a choice.
And it's time to stop acting like I have no control in these things. And I mostly feel like I already have.
Last night I talked a little to Bill about guilt. And he said to me that he feels like I have already begun to assert myself more -- now I just need to learn to deal with the repercussions of that. There's nothing wrong with being me, or making the choices I make, but I can't let other people's feeling weigh me down to the point of apathy.
Huh. Go figure.
So anyway. I've gained back about 25 pounds of the original 50 that I lost, and in one week I lost 8 of that. So I am feeling pretty good. Eventually I might even have the courage to post my weight when I started and all that good stuff with updates, but goodness is that ever difficult. All in all, I aim to drop a total of 27 pounds. Funny now the threat of bikinis makes that suddenly so important. But when I remember that this time last year I was only 12 pounds less than I am now, I feel slightly better about myself.
What is so interesting to me is that since I came clean about this whole hiding/gorging thing, it doesn't seem to hold as much influence over me. Also, a few other women I know have professed similar problems.
And again, regardless of the link, it's nice to know I'm not alone, I'm not a freak, and what I want is not impossible. I feel blessed to have friends that reaffirm my hopes daily, and I hope I do the same for each and every one of them.
Much love, sistahs.