Well, the last two weeks have been a challenge.
You know the feeling when you first start seeing results and its amazing, and then all of a sudden losing weight is all you can think about? You stay focussed as long as you keep seeing those results. Then something happens and you have a rough week, your results slow (or sometimes you gain) and you feel like a bit of a failure. THIS is the point where I usually start really struggling, I start days with good intentions but end up falling into old habits. Its like I think "well I already messed up, might as well have one more day of ____. I'll start again tomorrow".
Going into this, I knew that was going to be my biggest obstacle. This road has been a LONG one for me. I've been battling my weight me ENTIRE teenage and adult life! I was successful once. I lost 90lbs back in 2001-2003 and I kept the majority off for 2-3 years before I slowly (or maybe not so slowly) started packing it all back on PLUS about 67lbs *cough*. I know what its like to win... but I know what its like to let it all slip away.
Last time I lost, I was focussed on and off, I'd go a couple months doing one thing and then stop. I really lost in 3 separate phases. The first 20 was at the gym, I stalled for about 6 months and then started running. I lost another 40 in about 6 months time then stalled again for 3-4 months... Then I ended up doing a LOT of walking due to life circumstances living in a big city and taking transit and walking to and from anywhere I had to go. I ended up losing the last 30 over about 8-9 months. So it wasn't really one focussed attempt, more like a whole bunch of cards fell into place for me (weight-wise).
I went through a pretty traumatic experience in 2003. It changed my entire life. In early 2004 I made the tough decision to leave my less than healthy (mentally/emotionally) life in the big city and moved back to my smaller home town. That's when the battle to keep it off began. For two years I really fought to keep my weight-loss. I was running, and semi watching what I ate. I attended a summer camp with all meals provided for two years and gained about 20lbs each summer, but I took it off each fall and maintained the rest of the year.
Then in 2006 I met my husband, got comfortable and proceeded to pack.it.on. He was really sweet, but wanted to make me happy a little too much maybe? Any time I would even say "Oh I really want a __(Insert totally indulgent food here)" he would run out without a second thought and get it for me. Most of the time when I would suggest treats I was half-joking, hoping he would be my willpower for me. So its no shocker that over the next 5-6 years I gained it ALL back (plus the even more embarrassing 67lbs).
Its not that I haven't tried in that time, I tried often, but... I gave up often. I've learned that I have an entitlement issue where if I see him having something "treat-like" I feel like I need to have something too. I have also learned that I have used food as a way to "get back at" my husband or anyone/thing for doing things that basically pissed me off. "Oh you want to go out and play poker instead of hanging out with me? FINE I'm gonna have a pizza!!". Right... so who was I "getting back at"... well I'll give you a hint... she's typing this post right now.
I ended up paying all those prices, for all those times I needed support, for all those times I felt lonely, for all those times I felt deprived, I got a whole bunch of fat. On top of that I started to get treated "different" again. I was the fat girl again. Talk about self destructive. I stopped smiling as much. I felt like if I put myself out there I would get responded to with "Yuck, why would I want to talk to you". I got really guarded and defensive.
Something happened this year. I'm not sure if the fact that I have two kids kicked in, or what, but all of a sudden I started putting myself first. I tried one diet and failed. Then I tried becoming exceptional at baking/cooking (talk about counter productive). Finally in September I think I got it right... well right-ish. I started MFP!
Which brings me to the intent of this post. (By the way I love being a woman because I am SO talented at digressing). These last two weeks. I had a spike week, followed by a really hard week without a lot of progress. I was feeling down and REALLY scared that I was going to fall off the wagon. Funny thing though about that wagon. When you fall off it, it stops and wait for you to get back on.
I'm done making excuses, I'm done lying to myself. Instead of finding an excuse, I am finding a WAY damnit. So here I am, back on track and planning for the New Year. I may have an off-day, and off-meal, and off-week... whatever. I will pick myself back up and get back on that wagon EVERY damn time from now on. I deserve it, my family deserves it, and so do my friends. If you're reading this and don't know me personally, even YOU deserve it. Why? Because its hope.