Now that I am attempting to do something about my size, I have become sort of uncomfortable with me - and with my existence. It's hard to explain, because losing weight, eating healthily and being active are GOOD things to do for the body. I think such activities could be listed under "Self-Love". We care about ourselves when we look after our bodies properly. So, good for the body, good for the self esteem but why am I feeling so prickly, so restless, so angry...so discontented lately?
This has happened since I have been blogging. I am ultra-aware of my days and some of my successes but mainly, lots of my failures. I am also permanently aware I am fat, whereas before, when I was eating as I pleased and doing very little, I only had the occasional thought about being a big person...and I carried on lazing around, eating what was in front of me. Yes, there was some self-disgust that I just didn't look good any more, but I wasn't focused on everything I was doing, everything I was eating. I was just living.
Now, I am a person with a campaign...(and a blog.) I have a healthy-eating, healthy living campaign, and to be perfectly honest, I am finding it hard. I am going through the motions, but mentally, I am not there? Anyone know what I mean?
It's almost as though I begrudge giving up my old 'unconscious' lifestyle.That's the only reason I can come up with for feeling the way I do...like it's an up-hill struggle and part of me is extremely half-hearted about the climb.
Of course, to counter that I'd say my new lifestyle is GOOD. My being aware and doing something about it is GOOD. Losing weight is GOOD. But I am not flying. Does that make sense?
Some people get into this...(and yes, different personality types obviously sort out problems in different ways) but I have friends who have lost weight, are still trying to lose weight and they are REALLY INTO IT...in a way which makes me feel a bit uncomfortable..but only because I haven't embraced it the way they have. How can this mission take over their lives as it has? Is it because I am a middle aged biddy who views life slightly differently..through perhaps slightly cynical (realistic?) eyes? Am I doomed to be the person who clings on to what's familiar and what suits me to the detriment of my health? I AM making changes - but if I am completely honest, it's because I HAVE to..not because I really want to. It has to be done...so where is the joy, people? Is there something wrong with me??? Some people just take off and fly. I am dragging my heels.
When I started this blog I swore I wouldn't become a diet-bore in real life. I saw these enthusiastic types as slightly fanatical...becoming totally consumed by their mission. It was their life. They were enthusiastic. (This isn't bad...but it's strange - for me.) Now, some people would say that's good, but laid-back old me? Nope. There have to be small adjustments...for life. I am not going to peruse menus and discuss the low fat merits of a meal when I am out with friends. I'll order it...and drink water with it..and I can do that. I am not going to talk about the size of the weights I lift (occasionally.) I am not a weight lifter...I am a fat woman doing weird things like lifting weights because she HAS to...not because she wants to. I am a fat woman giving over some of her day (reluctantly) to getting her arse into gear. I am a fat woman walking past the cream cakes in the supermarket because they are bad for me. I can do this...but I won't tell you it's filling me with resolve or happiness. Just being honest...
I don't think I have read a blog yet from a grumpy dieter ;) Why are you all SO bloody positive? :)
That's it really.
Old life....fine. OK, no worries, not too much brain strain. Disliked flab but could ignore it for the most part. Avoided mirrors...not too traumatic. Food tasty. No guilt trips, no pangs of guilty conscience.
New life...hard going. Full of consciousness which is a drag. Full of little voices urging me on to do the right thing...meals becoming a headache because I have to focus, not just eat...and an awareness every single day of my rolls of flab. Having to talk myself into exercising. Feeling I am doing it reluctantly. Guilt trips galore because I have not done as well as I should have done some days.
It is easier just being fat, isn't it? But we are all here because we know being fat isn't good...in any way, shape or form.
Let's trudge on eh? Give us a shove.