Here’s a shocking revelation for you: Losing weight is hard. Tough to believe, I know.
Being successful at weight loss takes a lot of work and a ton of motivation. Oh, and self-control. None of these things are areas in which I excel. But, three years ago, I did it.
I adjusted quite nicely to dieting after the first few weeks – as my body got used to a new way of eating and the cravings lessened, it got easier. Every time the numbers on the scale got lower, my motivation increased. I got good at learning what my body liked and what it hated. At knowing which food combinations would accelerate the weight loss and which ones would stall it. I was rocking that scale, hoping for a twenty-five pound loss, but praying for forty. I took up strength training and forced myself to do the damn cardio.
Finally, after six months, forty-five pounds were gone. I went from a size 12 to a thrilling size 4. And I felt good about that; I felt good about myself.
It got so easy to lose (yes, really) that I had to force myself to stop. I had to find out how to work just enough calories in to maintain the weight loss without gaining. And there, my friends, is where it got tricky.
Research indicates that 80% of people who lose weight will regain it within a year. Eighty percent. And that figure is regardless of how the weight was lost in the first place. How disheartening.
I was determined I would not be one of those people. I would not ever be seriously overweight again. It was too much work to get to a healthy weight and I am too lazy to have to do it all again.
But then there were vacations and dinners out and parties and nights I was too tired to cook. Exercising took too much effort and slowly faded away. It seemed okay to just “take a break”. Well, it wasn’t okay. I am clearly not the type of person who can take a break. When it comes to eating, I have learned that I’m an all or nothing kind of person. I threw away the “nothing” and embraced the “all” with abandon.
Did you know that embracing the “all” with abandon is not a good idea? No, really. It will make you fat. And it will make you fat a whole lot faster than embracing the “nothing” will make you thin.
This is where my pity party comes in. Over the last two years, the weight has been slowly creeping back on. I say to myself, “nip it in the bud”. Yes. That’s what I’ll do. Tomorrow.
But that “tomorrow” becomes “next Monday”, which becomes “right after the holiday”, which becomes “at the beginning of the month” or whatever other delay tactic I can use. Now there is no longer a bud to nip. It’s a full-blown weed. And a big one.
Honestly, I eat reasonably well during the week. But the weekends? Forget about it. I’m a mess. I haven’t gained all the weight back, thankfully, but I’ve regained 15 pounds of it. (And that's down from a sob-inducing 19, so I should be grateful.)
Fifteen pounds doesn’t sound huge, I know, but it’s Too Much. I am not a large person, so that 15 extra pounds is enough to make me seriously uncomfortable. My clothes are waaaay too tight and buying new ones that fit correctly is a challenge I am not happy about having to undertake. So I won’t. Besides, how soon will it be before that 15 pounds becomes 25? Too soon, I’m sure.
So now I have to figure out how to get my dieting mojo back and get this done. Dieting was something I never wanted to do again. I wanted to consistently eat well and exercise regularly to keep the pounds from coming back. Yeah. That plan’s not working for me.
I have learned some things about myself and my relationship with food that I need to take seriously. For the rest of my life. If I don’t, I will be fat. And uncomfortable. And I will not like myself.
For the last couple of weeks I’ve been sitting around on my dimpled ass feeling sorry for myself because, no matter how much I want it to be true, I’m not the type of person who can eat Whatever, Whenever. That’s just a fact.
I know my thyroid issues make it harder for me to lose weight. I also know it doesn’t make it impossible.
I know I can never eat sugar or white flour again. In fact, all processed foods are iffy. I know that bread and crackers, even when they are made with the wholest of whole grains, are like poison to my system. All of these things make me bloat and gain weight and feel miserable. Even when they are eaten in moderation. As if I know about moderation.
I know that no matter how hard I try, I cannot regain my youth and the strong metabolism that went along with it.
I know that crying about the unfairness of it all while eating a handful of barbecued chips isn’t going to make me thinner.
I know that I have to exercise. I know that to say, “I don’t have the time” is to really say, “I don’t want to.”
I know that I don’t want to be included in those failed weight loss statistics.
I know that I can do it.
I know that it’s worth it.
So please bear with me as I get this done. I’m whiny and depressed and bloated. But that may just be the sugar talking. I’ll feel better soon. When the back fat is gone.