Monday, February 13, 2012
So I missed my latest goal. By a lot. I set out to lose 8 pounds by my birthday - just last week - and lost 2.
I'm getting really, really tired of trying. I've been working on figuring out why I can't stay motivated to eat the way I need to eat to lose weight, and I think there are a couple of factors at work here.
One - I may not have any more weight to lose. When I do everything right, I either don't lose anything, or I lose half a pound. 162 pounds, give or take a pound or 2, could be it for me. If that's the case, I need to make peace with that. I've gone from 192 pounds to 162, dropped from a size 16 pant to a size 10, an L/XL top to a S/M. I have kept the weight off for over a year. I have a waist, defined abs, arms and shoulders, and a BMI in the healthy range. Not exactly small potatoes. It may be time to accept and embrace this body as the final incarnation of me.
Two - I put far too much emphasis on the scale. It's the only concrete yardstick I put any stock in. I should have been taking my measurements all along, but I haven't been. My clothes are an excellent measuring tool as well - in fact, I dropped from a 12 to a 10 in pants without losing more than 5 pounds - but the scale has been the end all and be all. It has so much power over me. I treat 1 pound like 10, 2 pounds like 20. I base almost all of my eating - and cheating - around it. Weigh-ins once a week on Fridays became Thursdays, then Wednesdays, and all of a sudden I'm weighing myself 3 times a week. If I'm the same or down an ounce or two, I'm on top of the world and give myself permission to go to town on the danger foods. If I'm up, I relentlessly beat myself up for being weak, a failure, a fraud - and I cheat anyway. On Sundays I start seeing the scale looming once again and snap myself back into line. If I'm down, I look in the mirror and see a supermodel. When I'm up - even half a pound - I see the old me. My clothes feel tight and I feel self-conscious. I'm constantly looking at myself in the mirror, watching for bra-lines and muffin top. It's all psychological and ridiculous and I know it's stupid but I can't help it.
I don't want to live that way anymore, so I am setting myself free from the scale for awhile. I will base my progress solely on my success in tracking and not cheating, and in meeting my exercise goals.
I actually made the decision last week, and didn't weigh myself at all. It's already having an effect - I'm a lot more relaxed, and less concerned about how I look and how my clothes fit.
It seems strange to be still consciously trying to lose weight and have nothing to measure my success, or lack of it, by. But I'm so tired of one number defining everything about me.
Let's see how this freedom thing works.