Ok, so before anyone thinks this is yet another WOE IS ME post, let me assure you it's not. I'm actually doing pretty well even given my STILL expanding fatness. It's been incredibly hot and humid and I freaking LOVE it, which has helped my mood immensely.
Onto my thoughts for today. I've been thinking a lot about motivation, determination, what I didn't have in the past, what I somehow got and how I've apparently lost it again.
Once I got into the weight loss game seriously, there became strict, unwavering rules I set for myself. When and what I could eat, how much exercise I absolutely HAD to do, etc. And these rules were followed to the letter. Any wavering from those self-imposed restrictions meant DAYS of self-recrimination, frantic efforts to make corrective action and intense self hatred.
I became relatively thin and fit following this regimen. But it got tiring. I never allowed myself to be satisfied. I was still horribly ugly and had loose skin on my legs and arms and if I only I had trained harder I would have come in FIRST in the half marathon instead of second. So I would restrict more.
And then there was a day when I caught myself (this is so embarrassing to admit) walking by a garbage can and saw that someone had thrown out half of a large cookie and I wanted to take that cookie OUT OF THE GARBAGE CAN and eat it? Well, that was beyond fucked up.
So taking all of these things into account I decided to be nicer and more forgiving of myself. The rules were relaxed. I started allowing myself treats once and a while so I didn’t become so crazed. And I started not DEMANDING that I run a certain speed or certain miles.
I started gaining weight. And that pattern has continued. Here I sit, at a weight I SWORE that if I ever got back to I would kill myself. But if it weren't for the jiggle in my belly and the size 2 skirts that don't fit anymore? I think that today I’d be pretty happy.
As I was thinking about this earlier today, I ran into an acquaintance who had gastric bypass a few years ago and lost a lot of weight. She looked almost sickly – so thin and ashy gray. She had always been known as being a little bitchy but she turned into - as I was told from people who knew her - a super bitch. When I saw her today, she has clearly gained a lot of weight back. She is nowhere near as heavy as she was, but she is what used to be referred to as "pleasantly plump". And guess what? She seems SO much happier then when she was at her thinnest.
So is there no medium for me? Do I have to live rigidly again, restricting myself, not allowing any deviation and be happy with my weight OR be chunky and learn to accept that? Are those the only 2 choices? Because trying to live in what is undoubtedly the healthiest place – between those 2 worlds – is not working out…
Do any of you know where I am coming from?