But I don’t.
Here’s the deal. I’m feeling low. Depressed. Down.
My weight hasn’t budged again in two weeks! And I’m working my ass off. For instance, this is my calorie burn for the week so far:
And yes, I realize losing weight is like 85% diet…you can’t out-exercise a poor diet (and don’t I know it, I’ve tried before) so I would be remiss if I didn’t mention that I am eating the correct number between 1600 and 1800 as decided upon by my new trainer and using Nutrisystem.
And it’s not working. And I feel really down on myself. And I can’t find anything to wear to my dance lesson because all I can see is the fat. Because all I think about when I look down at my belly during my work day is how big it is, and perhaps I need to go low carb, or gluten-free, or maybe I need to go back to the MD weight loss clinic and eat 800 calories a day. Or maybe I should get that weight loss surgery. Maybe I should have not gone out to celebrate my 9 year wedding anniversary. Maybe that was sabotage and I should have insisted on skipping it. Somewhere, somehow, I’ve screwed up.
My mind is cyclone of raging, hateful thoughts, and every time I see myself in the mirror it is a disappointment. Every time I get on the scale I see failure and feel frustration. What am I killing myself for to get no results? The weight, I think to myself, should be falling off because I have so much of it to spare and because I’m working so hard at it.
I mean, it’s not stopping me from doing what I need to do. I am still hellbent on going to the gym to complete my cardio as promised to my trainer. The voices that whisper at me to not go know they don’t have a chance and so even if they do manage to pop into my head, they leave me alone shortly knowing that they are already defeated, that I have made up my mind. And that, is something. Even as defeated as I feel, I can’t bear the thought of not doing the work outs because that is somehow more painful than skipping them.
But it sure is messing with me mentally. And today when I went to my lesson I was in a poor head space and my lesson was not very productive. It was pretty much a total bummer. It’s almost better, in terms of being productive and improving my dancing, to ignore the huge fat elephant in the room that is my body size, shape, and mass, and pretend that I am the size of Marieta. I can be happier if I don’t look in the mirror, don’t see myself, and just feel. But that is not in the cards right now. Because it is all I can see. To the point that if I see a skinny girl looking me up and down at the gym, I know, I just know that she is thinking she’d rather be dead than look like I do. (Of course we all know that this is my thought, that I have no idea what that girl may be thinking, and that I am projecting that nastiness but seriously, this is what is in my head right now.) And yes, I will even own it, a part of me would rather be dead than look like I do now. But I can’t change how I look instantaneously. So I have to find acceptance for it and push onward. There is naught else to do. And I am in so much resistance to the idea of accepting my body as it is. It is, to me, unacceptable and shameful. The anthesis of anything feminine or beautiful.
And it all just seems so impossible – that I am up against an impregnable wall, pushing, pushing, pushing, and the wall is winning. It feels like my body is fighting me and resisting me at every turn. I hate my body. I hate it! I really do. I’ve had a hateful relationship with it for many, many years. The last decade or so I have let it be and we have kept the peace by me ignoring it, pretending that it is not important, distancing who I am from how I am packaged. But now I’m focused on it. I once again see it’s flaws and imperfections. It is a total and utter disappointment. Ugly. Disgusting. And it is not even cooperating in the process of making it better.
But why did I even think it would? When has it ever acquiesced to my wishes of a body like Jennifer Anniston? I have never, ever been thin or lean. Each pound lost was hard-won though starvation. And even then I had cellulite. Should I just accept that I will always have a gross body? That was part of why I stopped dancing. I just didn’t have a dancer’s body.
And in a gross, non-dancer-type body about the last thing I want to do is dance. Especially next to people who have fantastic, gorgeous bodies. And it makes me mad and bitter…like here I am hauling twice the weight of a normal sized person around doing the same movement as everyone else and it is damn hard! I’m told it is difficult in a tiny body – well try it with a 100 pound backpack on cause that’s pretty much what I do on a regular basis. And I don’t care about how well I move because the fat is so distracting. And I don’t care about being fit…I just want to be skinny damnit!
So there you go. Probably a major downer to read but this is what is going on for me. And I don’t understand why I feel so crappy. Because I’m doing all the right things. Shouldn’t the endorphins be kicking in about now? Shouldn’t I be proud that I’m taking consistent, committed action? How come that somehow isn’t enough? How come the results, often harsh but always fair, are telling a different story?
Well, all I can think to do is to change something. And starting Monday that is what I will do. As my trainer said, “We haven’t found the jump-start for your body.” I feel like because I was already pretty active before I started putting a concerted effort toward getting this weight off and hiring the trainer and all that I’m in a plateau. And it kinda, I mean REALLY, sucks to hit a plateau just when you are starting. Or should I be looking at it like I’m 3 months into the new year and only down maybe 10 pounds? It is totally unacceptable. This is urgent. I will never be as young as I am right now to make this happen.
And through all this struggle, it has really affected me. Somehow I lost my confidence. I think before I began really working on losing the weight I had some fantasy that I could be the level of competitive dancer I wish to become based on the quality of my movement alone. This was a fallacy in two respects: 1) dancing is aesthetic and appearance is absolutely part of the package 2) my physicality at this large size holds me back from doing certain choreography, having stamina, and physically being capable of performing at that level. Before I believed I moved well and that was going to be enough. Now I believe that I move well, but that there is a lot more to improve in that regard and also that it is necessary to have a different physicality to become that high level competitive dancer I envision. My good is suddenly, I realize, not good enough. That combined with the weight struggles has me lying face down on the floor. Where did my exuberance go? Where did all my joy run off to? I don’t know but it has got me feeling beaten down.
Here’s hoping the scale will show a different result tomorrow. Here’s hoping that if it sings the same song, or if I go up a pound that I can just accept it and I won’t let it depress me. Here’s hoping that the plateau is going to end soon. Here’s hoping all this effort will pay off and that one day I will like the reflection in the mirror. Here’s hoping that I will start to feel good about being me because that can’t come soon enough.