The ugly underbelly

It is Friday afternoon and I am very happy about this. I almost didn’t write again today. I think that it is generally incredibly easy for me to come on here and write about what is going on in my life because like 95% of the time I am a happy positive person. I honestly believe that being a happy positive person is the only way to live life. But, that is not all that life is. If someone came on here and read this blog it wouldn’t be accurate to not ever show any of the negativity in my life or my brain and yes Virginia there is negativity and self-doubt and pity parties.

It is not accurate to only portray the good about me; I have to be free to act like a whiny bitch from time to time to show I’m human if nothing else. Actually I probably do that all the time so it’s probably not necessary to point out the fact that I am incredibly mental that is probably pretty self-evident.

Anyway, I am going to preface this by saying, I 100% solidly know in my head and heart that not getting the number I wanted on the scale yesterday is not that big of a deal. My brain logically knows that it doesn’t matter and I tried so hard yesterday to rationalize and remain untouched by it. That is not what ended up happening. I feel like a bitch because I know there are people who only lose ½ a pound a week every week and that is great for them and they are thrilled as they should be. I would NEVER tell anyone else that losing ½ a pound is not good enough. It is! I know that. A loss is a loss is a loss. It’s not even that I only lost ½ a pound. I could have lived with that. It was that it was the one and only week I wanted more. I expected more. I EARNED more. It threw me into a tailspin that can only best be described as a pity party for 1.

Never mind the reality that I weighed 146.7 on the scale. Never mind the fact that this means I have lost a total of 73.3 pounds. Never mind that I am wearing size 6 jeans. Never mind all the things my brain logically knows. NEVER mind them okay…. Yesterday, by the evening, I hated everything about what I saw in the mirror. In fact all I saw was the incredibly giggly thighs and the rolls of extra fat or rather skin around my stomach and the massive amount of untoned fat lurking.

Why is it that at 200 plus pounds I am less critical of myself than I am at 146.7 pounds? Why is it that the smaller I get the more I notice the little things? No matter how much my husband tried last night (and again bless than man for dealing with this basket case sometimes) he could not console nor convince me to be happy. I was in indulgent self-loathe land and I accepted it. I kept telling him I am just sad and I know I have no business being sad but I can’t help but be sad and you need to let me be sad. Some days you just have to indulge that girl so that you can move on from her. I also think a lot of this has to do with the reality that I started my period and therefore am a little extra emotional anyway. I kept telling Chris that I will be better tomorrow; I just have to get this out of my system. I really did feel awful for feeling bad about myself. Does that make sense? I knew I had no right to hate on myself so much because there are people out there who would kill to be 146.7 pounds, giggly parts and all. Hell, I would have killed to be 146.7 pounds like 7 months ago. I have no room to complain at all and yet there I was complaining and thinking life was not fair.

Why do I let the scale affect me like that? This is exactly why I am never allowed to weigh too much or to give it more credit than it really deserves. It is simply a single moment in time a snapshot of a moment. It is static. It doesn’t change as we change. All it can do is tell me at that exact moment what number my body is weighing in at. For that moment. Cause God knows if I drink a bunch of water in like 5 minutes that number could be different. I’m just illustrating that it is a completely fickle and undeserving means of measurement. I can think of so many other factors that are more telling of success. Even though I have had tremendous success measuring by this means, I still don’t think it’s the best means to measure anything.

Basically I was in a pretty pissy mood and I hate that I was. I so wanted to break out of it and instead I gave into the feelings and ate cookies. Damned period! Damned hormones. Yup, I ate half a box of Girl Scout cookies. Oh well.

Today is a new day and I promised myself that the pity party ends today and that is exactly what has happened. I’m over it and I’m doing fine. I’m ready to run tonight. I did take yesterday off from exercise as well as I was just too damned pissy and honestly tired to work out. So today I will go home and run. I will get a nice run in and then I’m going to dinner with my husband and then tomorrow my niece and nephew will be here. I haven’t seen them since January so I’m very excited to cuddle on them. Because my two sisters will be in town I probably won’t get much done this weekend. Saturday night my mom is having a pampered chef party so tomorrow is definitely going to be exercise-less, but that is okay. All the more reason why I must run today.

I am over the pity party, I need to keep my ass going and focus on what really matters which is that I am in control and not a stupid scale. I have accomplished way too much to be angry at myself. I can indulge for a day because sometimes that is healthy too but I will not wallow for too long, quite honestly I have too much other work to do. I want to be strong and that means building these muscles of mine and pushing them to their limits. So with that in mind I think I’m going to hit the ground for some more sit-ups. That’s what I need today. Exercise and health.