"But I don't wanna"
Tuesday evening. I'm fed up. I know, this isn't necessarily anything new, but I'm definitely not feeling the love for this whole journey to health thing today. I don't want to think about it, I don't want to do it (although I am), and I don't want to write about it (although, of course, I will). I'm afraid it's all part of some insidious plot that my subconscious has cooked up to get me to go off course, although it could just be that the bloom is off of the proverbial rose for me. Panic not, dear readers, I'm not even thinking about slacking on the TPC (which, by the way, I'm only 0.8 pounds away from achieving - woohoo), I'm just really getting fed up with the way that my emotions keep fighting what my body and the logical part of my brain know I need to do.
So, for some added motivation, I just received an email informing me that my 20 year high school reunion (no freakin' way it's been that long...no freakin' way!) will be next June. For my 10 year reunion, I was at my highest weight ever (262) and was shunned by most of my classmates, many of whom didn't recognize me from school because of how puffy my face was and how charmingly large my body had become. I know that this is like the most petty thing ever, but I just don't want to be "the fat girl" at the reunion again. It's not about impressing anyone or trying to look hot or anything like that (as though I could anyway!), it's just about feeling comfortable in my skin so that I can actually sit and chat with old friends without wondering what they're thinking about me. Yes, I shouldn't care what a bunch of phonies that I haven't talked to in 20 years (oh my God, it can't possibly be that long!) think about me but, call me vain and shallow, I do.
In one of those little ironies of life, just as I'm entering one of my cranky phases of this little exercise (pardon the pun), I went to pick up my healthy meals last night only to find that there was nothing there for me to pick up. The way it works is that the service prepares the meals that I've ordered and then drops them off at a yogurt shop not too far from my house, where I then go to pick them up on Mondays and Fridays. This means that the actual store that I go to is only the middle man, so they couldn't do anything about my missing meals. I am very proud to say that I didn't take this as permission to go on a fast food bender for the rest of the week but, rather, headed off to the supermarket (grumbling all the way, mind you) to put together some semblance of healthy meals for the next three days (until I can pick up my next set of meals on Friday). I got several cans of soup, sandwich fixings, a lovely salmon filet, Filet Mignon, bagels, light cream cheese, light Laughing Cow cheese wedges, fruit, and milk (I haven't had a latte in so long that I've nearly forgotten how delightful they taste!). Much of this isn't "diet" fare, but, as I've said before, I'm not on a diet, so that's just fine. I'm sticking with the "stop eating when you're satisfied" philosophy and hoping for the best until Friday.
Want to know something odd? I just put my hands up to my neck to warm them (it's like 30 degrees - seriously - in my office this week) and felt these hard things sticking out which felt strange and unfamiliar. Know what they were? My collarbone! I think I must have cleared some of the fat layer away from that area because I don't remember them being so prominently under my skin. I may never get rid of the giant mound of stomach I am blessed with, but I can see my collarbone and that's progress.
So, for some added motivation, I just received an email informing me that my 20 year high school reunion (no freakin' way it's been that long...no freakin' way!) will be next June. For my 10 year reunion, I was at my highest weight ever (262) and was shunned by most of my classmates, many of whom didn't recognize me from school because of how puffy my face was and how charmingly large my body had become. I know that this is like the most petty thing ever, but I just don't want to be "the fat girl" at the reunion again. It's not about impressing anyone or trying to look hot or anything like that (as though I could anyway!), it's just about feeling comfortable in my skin so that I can actually sit and chat with old friends without wondering what they're thinking about me. Yes, I shouldn't care what a bunch of phonies that I haven't talked to in 20 years (oh my God, it can't possibly be that long!) think about me but, call me vain and shallow, I do.
In one of those little ironies of life, just as I'm entering one of my cranky phases of this little exercise (pardon the pun), I went to pick up my healthy meals last night only to find that there was nothing there for me to pick up. The way it works is that the service prepares the meals that I've ordered and then drops them off at a yogurt shop not too far from my house, where I then go to pick them up on Mondays and Fridays. This means that the actual store that I go to is only the middle man, so they couldn't do anything about my missing meals. I am very proud to say that I didn't take this as permission to go on a fast food bender for the rest of the week but, rather, headed off to the supermarket (grumbling all the way, mind you) to put together some semblance of healthy meals for the next three days (until I can pick up my next set of meals on Friday). I got several cans of soup, sandwich fixings, a lovely salmon filet, Filet Mignon, bagels, light cream cheese, light Laughing Cow cheese wedges, fruit, and milk (I haven't had a latte in so long that I've nearly forgotten how delightful they taste!). Much of this isn't "diet" fare, but, as I've said before, I'm not on a diet, so that's just fine. I'm sticking with the "stop eating when you're satisfied" philosophy and hoping for the best until Friday.
Want to know something odd? I just put my hands up to my neck to warm them (it's like 30 degrees - seriously - in my office this week) and felt these hard things sticking out which felt strange and unfamiliar. Know what they were? My collarbone! I think I must have cleared some of the fat layer away from that area because I don't remember them being so prominently under my skin. I may never get rid of the giant mound of stomach I am blessed with, but I can see my collarbone and that's progress.
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