It could just be hormones...
It could be too much sugar creeping into my diet...
It could be the grains...
It could be the combination of all...
Lately, I've been seriously considering give up my weight loss goal.
Reality is that in Oct 2009 I started the journey with the goal of getting to a "healthy BMI" which was 155 lbs. I was at 255, so it was a round 100 lbs number, which made me happy.
I lost 75 lbs (at the most) and got under 200. A big endeavor and it took about a year to get it done. Calorie counting, daily exercise, I was very focused.
I started running, doing triathlons, broadening my health horizons to do the things I always wanted to do.
I liked being an athlete.
In 2013 I started to get concerned that I hadn't lost any weight in a year or so and underwent testing to find out why. But the why isn't important. And not the point of this post.
Here I sit in Jan 2014.
5 years later.
I've lost 60 pounds (since I gained a bit).
A tri-athlon racer.
And yet, I feel defeated.
I feel like giving up my weight loss goal means a lazy lifestyle and it was all for nothing.
I want to be able to reconcile the fact that I am a healthy person... AND... I'm overweight. But media, my own stereotyping, and my presumption of others makes it hard for me to change that way of thinking.
I, as most of the rest of the world, equate thin with being healthy.
Thin = pretty
Thin = right
Despite my high self-esteem, despite my love for who I've become over the past 5 years. Despite not giving a shit what people think of me. This. This one goal really hits me to the core.
Why? Why am I so tied to it? Why can't I gracefully say "I'm healthy, and that's good enough."
In a conversation about this subject with a dear, dear person close to me (she'll know who she is when she reads this), I was ranting on and on about how I haven't been losing weight, despite being WAY healthier than I was 5 years ago. Why has it stalled? Why won't all this work pay off? And she said:
"Unfortunately, I'm afraid you're always going to have weight issues."
The words hurt.
Maybe they're true...
Maybe they're false...
But they hurt.
Perhaps they hurt the most cause deep down inside I didn't want to believe it. One day, I'd hit that "magic number" and boom... weight problems gone. I would have achieved nirvana and then maintenance mode from then on, right? I'd be thin.
Or perhaps I was most hurt because what I really heard was "you have weight issues."
And that, sadly, is true.
I don't like being fat. I don't.
I don't like having thick thighs that can't fit into skirts, jeans, cute outfits.
I don't like "real women are curvy" campaigns because all it's really saying is "please, please make it right to be overweight."
I don't like having to buy size 16/18.
Or purposely wearing black cause it's thinning.
I don't like the jiggle. The flab. The stretchmarks.
I do equate thin with beauty.
I do want to look like them.
Deep down... I am shallow.
Deep down... I'm jealous.
*pause for sobbing, runny nose, and frog in throat*
Look, we all have problems. We all have our goals, strife, and shit to deal with. No one person's issues is better than or worse than the other.
DubyaTeen always says: "Saying someone can't be sad, because other people are sadder, is like saying that someone can't be happy cause other people are happier."
After trying and trying and trying for the past 2 almost 3 years to lose the remaining 40 lbs...
And yet, in the past 2 almost 3 years I've done so many good things. So many healthy things.
My ambition, my goal is making me more unhappy than happy.
It's resulting in body-hate instead of body-love.
I don't have a solution for this. And of course that makes me even angrier.
I don't even have a quick way to wrap up this post to make myself and you, the reader, feel better.
There's no motivational message.
No "going forward I will..."
This is probably the truest post I've ever done... the most raw... and the most frightening.
That's where I'll end it.