I have injured my knees twice, not to the extent that I had to seek any sort of medical attention, but enough that I couldn't do much physical activity for a few weeks afterward. I fell in love and we all know that love equals weight gain. I battled with myself over my motivations. I ate too much, I ate too little, I lost countless nights of sleep due to stress beyond my own control.
In nearly three years I have lost 71 pounds. That is more than my 8 year old son weighs now. I have FOUR pounds to go until I weigh what I did when I got pregnant with him. It has only taken me nine years to get back to this place. I still have 25 pounds after that to hit my goal. Numbers, numbers, numbers.
I don't want to be "skinny". I never have. I want to merge everything that is feminine about me, with health. When I began all of this, I wanted to be able to look in the mirror and not absolutely hate what was staring back at me. I don't know that I actually believed that any of this was even possible. I think I started this, in an attempt to prove myself wrong.
My body has changed. Muscles in my arms and legs have definition. I am strong, and for the first time ever, actually look the part. I look in the mirror every morning, and there are days when I have to stop and take a double look at myself, because I simply cannot believe it. I am not the fat girl anymore, at least not physically. Mentally, I'm still working on that one.
We see it on The Biggest Loser. One of the biggest struggles with weight loss comes not from the outside, but from the inside. We know in our hearts that this is going to take time, but when we're not seeing results that we want on the scale, or in our clothes, this poses the biggest threat to our success. We become DE-motivated.
My biggest issue right now, is that I am not the fat girl in body, but my mind is trying desperately to catch up. Shopping for clothes is my first example. I automatically go for shirts two or three sizes too big for me, in order to hide something, when there is less and less of me to hide. I wonder what the waiter taking my order is thinking when I order a salad, "is he/she applauding the fat girl's choice in trying to be healthy?" or even worse, when I decide to order something NOT healthy, "are they judging the fat girl who ordered the everything platter, thinking of course, this is why she's fat?" People are going to judge me, regardless of what I'm choosing to eat, and I'm learning to realize that these voices, they are my own.
The gym used to be a huge obstacle for me. I felt like the fat girl ALL THE TIME. This lead me to stick to a routine, one machine, in and out, don't make eye contact with anyone. This has waned, more to do with the fact that I see the same people over and over again every day, and in our own silent, non-verbal conversations, I know in some way they're rooting for me. They've seen the changes in me. Many of them have been in my shoes at one point or another in their lives.
So how do you stop the "fat girl" thinking? How do I rationalize with myself that even though my mind thinks of me, still, as "the fat girl" that this is not who I am? I am proud of me, and all that I have accomplished and all that I am still aiming to accomplish, but how do I look in the mirror and see all of the changes, but not allow myself to believe them?
It is quite the liberating feeling when you realize that you are not allowed to actively think of yourself as "the fat girl" any longer. When I'm putting on clothes that are mediums. When I put my old underwear on and it literally FALLS OFF. When I step on the scale and it reads a number that I haven't seen since I was 19. It all feels like a dream.
One, great big, gigantic, I don't want to wake up from this-ever, dream. I am not "the fat girl" anymore. So when do I start believing it?
You need to have a Viking funeral for those feelings. Make a tiny boat and set it on fire in the bathtub. Drink champagne and watch it burn.
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