What’s Embarrassing
Thursday, January 14, 2021
You know what’s embarrassing? I do. I recently saw a picture of a co-worker a few years ago, when she was, in her words, enormous. Now, she looks healthy and young and happy and to see her now, you’d never know she used to be even slightly overweight. Her response? “That’s so embarrassing…”
I left the room and thought about it, then replied via text:
It hit me hard. Not only is she now the embodiment of how I want to be, but it just underscored my repeated failures on this front. I’ve done fairly well in the past, dropping 80 pounds at one point, but an injury led to bedrest, which led to the pounds coming back and bringing friends.
I am the heaviest I’ve ever been. I have long ago surpassed the younger me’s “if I ever get over 300 pounds, just drag me out back and shoot me.” No one has obliged, much to my chagrin.
See, here’s the thing. I know how to lose weight. I know what matters and what doesn’t, I know the actions I need to take, I know the pitfalls and the triggers and the threats. I know what foods I need to eat or not eat and in what quantities, I know that I can’t start off and run a marathon tomorrow; it starts with baby steps. But man, oh, man, is that not enough.
It’s not enough to know that, as my co-worker said up there, having some fresh veggies in the afternoon will help with hunger through the night. It’s not enough to know that a serving size is usually way less than half of what we think it is. It’s not enough… which makes me feel like I’m not enough. Ever.
And maybe that’s the crux of the problem. It’s got to be mental, right? I’ve got to be mental? Why else would I do so well in the mornings only to sabotage myself every night?
I just keep thinking it has to be easier than this. I am constantly going and doing and have a basically non-stop schedule, but once again, it’s not enough. I barely have time to make food, much less make “special” food or something different for myself than for my husband than for my kids. I’m a picky eater, but don’t let him fool you—he is, too. He slips in and out of being “good” just as much as me, and often drags me with him one way or the other. I’m just too tired all the time to care to argue or change or do any differently. I’m here. Some days, that’s it. I am so heartsick and soul tired that it’s hard to make anything else feel like it matters. And the part that I KNOW says that if I just got a little healthier, I’d sleep better. If I slept better, my day would improve. If my day would improve, I would not dread it so much. If I wouldn’t dread it so much, I wouldn’t be so heartsick and soul tired.
But once again, no matter how many times G.I. Joe tells me that knowing is half the battle, it’s still only half. It’s still not enough…
So where does that leave me? IDK. That’s the whole point here. I’m hoping that this time, when I’m trying to lose weight, I will use this blog as a sort of touchstone. I will talk about the journey, the difficulties, the trials and tribulations, and it will help. Sort of like going to therapy, but much cheaper.
So, if you’re reading this—now, or in some far-flung future—buckle up. It’s likely to be a bumpy ride.