I gave up and become what I hate.
A calorie counting loony.
I got tired of all my mental energy going towards thinking about my weight.
I got tired of having my emotional well being tethered to the size of my jeans.
I got tired when I climbed two flights of stairs.
So for the past 5 months, I’ve been working out 3-4 days a week. I’m getting stronger. But not thinner.
A friend challenged me to write down everything I ate for two weeks. I changed my diet and enter everything I eat into a website that tracks my caloric, carb, protein, and fat intake.
I’ve lost two pounds.
And instead of being thrilled that the scale is finally moving in the right direction, I fluctuate between two emotions: disbelief and…okay, it’s just the one emotion. I don’t believe what the scale is telling me.
I’ve been here before and I wasn’t successful. I don’t believe I can do this.
I very much want to.
But I sit here tonight, while my kids are in bed and my husband is out of town and I’m considering “rewarding” myself for my hard work. Sabotage is the more accurate word.
As I struggle with the physical, I’m learning that this will be a mental struggle as well.
Looks like more than the size of my rear is going to have to change.