Adjusted Reality

“Reality can be beaten with enough imagination.” – Mark Twain

Nitpicking Me, Celebrating Me

Since the race, I’ve been very… moody about my physique. Since I’m not currently pursuing a higher goal, I’ve found that I’ve fallen back on being critical about my progress (or lack thereof) with weight loss. People keep giving me the eye roll when I talk about it IRL, because apparently I’m not chunky enough to worry about it, or something, but the truth is – I really want to finish what I’ve started. I’m almost there. It’s not even the number on the scale, because if 150 meant looking in the mirror and not seeing that damn stomach pooch, I would be all about it. I’ve never been attached to a specific number, but a specific image. Maybe not even an image but a feeling…

The odd thing is I’ve never been my current goal weight (135), not that I can remember at least. I pretty much gained about 25 lbs overnight when I quit gymnastics. And I was pretty happy there until it became 35 then 50 then 100 then 125. However, 150 then had a lot less tummy than 150 now. And (for better or for worse) much less shoulders/chest. Legs – still hot. Arms – probably look better now. Neck – still never gonna be one of those elegant swan necks, but at least looks strong and powerful. Chin – single. I am aware that I have many great physical assets, even at my weight now. But it’s the jiggly tummy bits and the overall size of my top half that drives me bonkers.

The thing that’s also driving me bonkers is the damn weight just doesn’t want to come off. Actually, that’s unfair. I am finding myself unwilling to make the effort and sacrifices to make the weight come off. Well, ok, it’s a combination of a lot of things. I do not understand how an average of 1500-1600 calories per day + 3000-4000 calories burnt per week is not resulting in any loss whatsoever. I do not understand how 2 days of controlled indulgence (aka, not more than normal) made me gain 4.8 lbs this weekend, topping out at a ridiculous 156.8 lbs this morning.  What I do understand is it’s NOT, so I need to do more (or really in this case, do less eating). I know I lose at 1200-1300 calories a day, at least for a while. However, I am MISERABLE doing it, and it doesn’t feel right. I can push through miserable for a while, but at what cost?

The other avenue I’m considering is shaking up my food intake in another way – trying the whole “clean eating” thing for a while. Or giving up bad carbs. Or whatever else is out there that supposedly makes people lose weight. I don’t want to. I’ve been very happy that I’ve been able to successfully lose weight without being a social reject about it, and just watching my portions. However, something is not working anymore with that, and I gotta figure out what to do about it. Or not. I guess I could stay in this limbo here where I’m healthy but not completely happy, and forever chase that last 15 lbs. But the whole point was to finish, be done, and then for once in my life not want to lose weight.

The good news is that I had a fantastic moment of feeling comfortable in my skin this weekend. On the 4th we were at a BBQ and we were clued in that there would be a kiddie pool, so I brought my suit just in case. It was 101 degrees outside that day, so near the peak hot point of the day, I decided to put my feet in. Then, that felt way too good so I put on my suit and put my whole body in. When I got out, I just didn’t feel like changing out of it. I spent the whole day and most of the evening in my suit. With a pretty decent size group of friends. I was pretty proud of myself there – I never shied away from the water and swimsuits even when I was heavy, but there was no unnecessary lounging – after getting out, I would change right away. I mean, it was a one piece, it’s a long road to do that in a bikini, if ever, but it was a major step.

Then, after a great day, I went and twisted my ankle. I was being dumb walking home and spinning around in the street and tripped (alcohol may have been involved) and now if I know what’s good for me, no running or DDR for a few days to a week. Which is also not helping any of these image/mental issues at all. So this weekend was the best of times, and the worst of times. I just need to sort out in my head where I want to be, and what I am willing to give up to get there.

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1 Comment

  1. You don’t like your top half, I hate my bottom half – put us together into some kind of franken-girl and we’d be the perfect woman;) Actually, maybe learning to love our “flaws” would be easier.

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