Down

There's some pounds gone. That's good, right? But it's interesting, because as I have noticed the weight loss, I have also noticed that I feel . . . down.  So the weight is a loss to me in more than pounds. I will have to try to discover what that is about.

Hanging over me . . .

Is a wedding dress. It's not worrying that it won't fit; it will, because I'm having it made. But I know that I don't want to be the size I am in it, whatever it decides to be as a finished product.

Facebook kindly posts ads like "The Wedding Dress Diet," and "The single tip to lose your belly" on my page. Once our status changed to engaged, the started rolling in. :-/ So even the Internet knows I want to lose weight. Fantastic.

More than a certain size, I want to be healthy. I want to do more active things, and I know that will be easier in a smaller frame.  I want to actually like tolerate my wedding pictures without a massive photoshop intervention.

I think I am actually starting to want these things more than I want to sit on the couch with a book and a popsicle.  Take that, Facebook ads. I am more in the know than you think.

Knowing isn't the answer

I really do KNOW that I sometimes eat when I'm not hungry (perversely, I also sometimes do not eat when I am hungry.I like to mix it up.)  I also know that I do not always choose the best foods to eat when I am hungry, the ones that will fill me up for less calories, the ones that will help me not go running for a cookie in an hour.

What's ANNOYING is that knowing does not always change what I end up DOING.

It would be really nice to get that part of the bridge built.

I wonder when . . .

I'm going to get this weight thing figured out? I eat pretty well, and not too much. It's the moving around thing I can't seem to subscribe to for any realistic length of time. But a wedding dress looming in my future has been  . . . motivating, especially in the eating choices department. I wish it would be a kick in my (baggier) pants, though, because I need to get out there and get some calories burning!

Maybe I'll try taping a picture of a wedding dress to my phone. That might just scare me straight out the front door and into a walk. I'll report back.

The elephant in the room

There's an old saying that goes, "How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time." It's supposed to be good advice for conquering a large task, but what if your issue is that you never did have a problem eating the whole darn elephant in the first place???

I think it's still the same solution, "one bite at a time," but with far fewer bites. I would love to tell you that since the start of this project I can walk by the cookie isle without a second glance, and that the thought of adding sour cream to my burrito fills me with new-found horror. We're not quite there yet. I think I am able to keep Ben & Jerry off my favorites list for now, but I have grazed at the pastures of Pepperidge Farm a few times. I just try to get off the feed bag sooner each time.

I am still going to the gym, though this week was a bust. School started, and followed the historical pattern of derailing my whole life. But I am still trotting behind the wagon with the intention of catching back up to it this next week. I will find the time. I don't know how much fat I have lost, but I have found some new muscles, so there is a bit of hope in that.

This is not so much a goal with an ending destination, for me it's more of a way to enjoy the ride wherever I end up going. Much of my relationship with food has been about trying not to see/hear/feel things that I didn't want to acknowledge; my work now is to set down my fork so that my gaze can go beyond my plate. One bite at a time, I will get there. Maybe then I won't need to eat a whole elephant to feel full.

SWF ISO better half.

Breaking up is hard to do. I am not sure at what point the average person comes to learn this, I am only sure that by adulthood, the majority of us do. And hard as it is, we know that in all likelihood, there will come a time that we will do it again, making love always a bit bittersweet. My time is now. Even though I have done this so many times before that it feels too high to count, I am ready to do it again. Beneath the sadness there is the slight tug of exhilaration; with every ending there is a perceived beginning, and I am anticipating the start even as I mourn the end.

I am not alone; newspapers are full of hopeful people and their abbreviated criteria for a future that is significantly different than the past. Though every age, color and creed is represented in the personals section, the language of search is universal. SWF ISO . . . . “single white female in search of . . . .” anything or anyone could fill in that blank.

But I will not be placing an ad after this break up. I am not in search of a new mate, having found one I would like to keep. Where is the break then? I am breaking up with me. I am separating from the me who is a saboteur, the person who quietly stabs me in the back just as I reach for the prize. I am packing up the belongings of the person who does not respect my tomorrows, and squanders the promise of future dreams for today’s gratification. I am forwarding the mail for the person who turns to food as a drug, instead of coping with problems, leaving me weighted down and stuck. I am leaving the me I have been for a very long time now. I am hoping that I will not miss her for long.