It’s been nearly a month since I posted on here (slash) used Instagram. Day-am. It was on purpose but not on purpose for good. I couldn’t get my shit together enough to make improvements on my health so I did what I do best – ignore it. I found myself too close to posting something that wasn’t true. Posting a picture of fruit or a pretty sunset pretending I was eating well and getting exercise while secretly having a bowl of ice cream. Because of that game of chicken with myself, I decided to put the phone down. I wish I came bearing wonderful news but I have not.
While “ignoring” it all for about a month, I officially reached my highest ever weight. Highest. Ever. And unless you’re a growing child or a recovering anorexic, it’s nothing to brag about. It makes me mad mostly. Grossed out and mad. Embarrassed and mad. Ashamed and mad.
I didn’t start this (again) with the promise of promises. I only make promises I know I can keep and I’ve never gotten to the level of healthy where I can make anyone, especially myself, a promise.
Anyway, segue to the next thing..
I’m back and logged in. I bought groceries (all the good foods) bright and sunshiny early this morning. I had Taco Bell for breakfast, a chicken salad sandwich for lunch, 3 candy bars, and we’re about to have brats and chips for supper. I didn’t start over today, obviously. But I intend to tomorrow. My brain works in the way that I need one last hurrah in order to be a success.
Last Saturday is when I hit my highest point ever. 2 pounds shy of the worst number imaginable and nearly an entire person heavier than my fiancè. I’ve never cried when stepping on the scale until last Saturday.. I need help and I don’t know how to get it or how to do it. I feel like I’ve said this a million times but I know what I need to do. I know what foods to eat and what exercises to do. I know how to portion and I know how to menu plan. I know how to get a restful nights sleep and to drink all my water.
Why does nothing ever stick with me then? I’m smart, I’m dedicated in my work, I have a wonderful family and life. But every single thing I hate about my life is literally a revolving door around one phrase, my weight. Everything I’ve missed out on or haven’t tried or haven’t done or haven’t experienced. Every time I’ve ever made an excuse not to do this or that or was too afraid or some of other bullshit line is because of my weight. Every. Single. Thing.
I’ve tried Weight Watchers and Jenny Craig. I’ve tried using Thrive and I’ve tried weighing in on a regular basis with friends. I haven’t been able to really lose weight since I was doing Jenny Craig regularly with my mom a couple of years ago. Even though the reason I stopped was because I moved away, I had already began drifting away from it before then. I haven’t tried Weight Watchers in years but I don’t know if it’d help to try it again? Weekly coach sessions or mini-powwows don’t really do it for me. Weekly weigh-ins don’t get me excited or motivated. At this point, honestly, I think a part of me feels like it’s all a lost cause. The weight isn’t going to melt off no matter how rigorously I push myself. Not that I have proof of that because I’ve never pushed myself hard enough but I’ve watched enough fat-camp episodes to know it’s a long and difficult road.
That whole paragraph is just annoying. The common answer or issue or denominator is all the same – it’s me. I need to want it enough. I need to need it enough. I need to try harder. But why can’t I? I have plenty of things in my life that should motivate me. I’m going on an airplane for the 1st time in 2 weeks. How the fuck is that going to work? Am I literally going to fit into the seat? Will I need a seatbelt extension? How embarrassed am I going to feel in front of my friend and co-worker?
I have a family reunion/vacation coming up this summer at the lake. Lake = Swimming. Actually for that matter all summer = lake = swimming. I don’t even own a swimming suit. For my entire adult life I just have worn a shape-wear shirt thing and a pair of shorts.
What else? I’m planning our wedding. I don’t want to look like a rolling hippopotamus in a white dress walking down the aisle. I don’t want to get winded dancing the night away. I don’t want to feel envious of other new brides while sitting beach side on our honeymoon. I want children. I want to ski downhill and go on a roller-coaster. I want to sit in a booth at the HoDo. (Even though I hate the HoDo but I was just there Friday and literally had to say “I don’t fit, we need to sit somewhere else.” O.M.G.)
So, any tips? Thoughts? Advice? I might be annoyed at whatever you have to say or even don’t believe you because I promise you, you’ve never been as heavy as I have. But I’ll read it and I hope that it’ll register with me just the right way.
P.S. The purpose of this post is to let you know I’ve chosen to get back in the game for the 2,017th time. I prepped all the veggies and fruits I bought this morning. I made a rough outline of our meals this week and I’ve given my fiancé the tough job of making me go on at least 3 walks before next weekend. As of right now.. 6:23 PM, I’m going to try again. So, I need you out there, whoever you are, but I don’t know how I need you yet.