Happiness is...small beginnings
Ever since I can remember I have always struggled with my body image. I never truly liked my body or even myself. When I went to college and afterwards I gradually started to like myself and as I did I gravitated between hating myself and eating everything in sight or eating everything in sight because I was beautiful no matter what and I didn't care. I had a brief stint with weightwatchers where I lost 10 or 15 pounds but eventually got tired of counting every little calorie and gave up. I mean when I want a brownie no one is going to tell me I can't have one. And I started to wonder - would there ever be a diet where I could have the occasional brownie and not have to worry about how many points it was or if I had room for it in my daily calorie intake. Could I ever just have pizza and not have to freak out and agonize over it?
I started to exercise in an on and off again way but could never really seem to stick with it because I hate sports. I hate exercising. I could just never seem to find something that I liked to do. And then you add the fact that my genes are against me (my father's entire side of the family is overweight) and I was pretty much ready to give up.
So at the end of this past year I was faced with a crossroads. I could either continue down my current path hating myself and eating what I wanted and not caring or I could try once again to do something about it and possibly fail.
I'm not sure what I did different. I had asked for God's help before and maybe it was my attitude. I stopped trying to lose weight so that I could look like everyone else or lose weight so that others would love me. I just decided that I wanted to lose some - even if it was like a pound every month just because I wanted it for me. I wanted to climb stairs without my knees hurting and I wanted to fit into my favorite red dress again. And I decided I wasn't going to set a defined goal. I was just going to do it and see what happened.
So in January I started getting up every morning before work and doing some crunches, sit ups and biking for like 12 minutes. It really wasn't much but it was a lot for me. Then I gradually added more reps and leg lifts and another minute on the bike each week. And Nate partnered with me to get up when I did so I wouldn't be tempted to stay in bed. For the most part I've been able to do it - I do have some mornings where I don't feel well (and no I'm not pregnant) or where I stay up until the wee hours and morning comes and it ain't gonna happen. But then I just get up the day after. I think its partially wanting to and the fear that if I don't get up consistently I'll quit again that drives me to keep going. I didn't even start weighing myself until last week because I was afraid of how much I had gained. This week I'm up to 17 minutes on the bike and I burned 400 calories this morning. Its the most I've ever burned and for me I'm proud. No I'm not doing the daily recommended 20 or 30 minutes a day. And I'm not counting every calorie (I had pizza 2 nights ago) but I feel healthier and stronger and I swear my pants fit better. I'm happier with myself than I've ever been.
Because I realized something - if I get up in the morning Satan can't make me feel bad about myself all day saying "Oh you fat lazy person you didn't get up and work out today." Nope because I did. I have even been afraid to write about it thinking that that will make it like all of the other times when I have tried and failed and then everyone would read about me downing a gallon of ice cream and witness me falling off the wagon yet again.
But I figure whatever. Lord willing I'll be doing the same thing 6 months from now. I probably won't be a size 6 but I'll feel better. And that's fine with me. (Personally I don't think a size 6 is lurking under here anywhere - I have Texas bones ;) )
I started to exercise in an on and off again way but could never really seem to stick with it because I hate sports. I hate exercising. I could just never seem to find something that I liked to do. And then you add the fact that my genes are against me (my father's entire side of the family is overweight) and I was pretty much ready to give up.
So at the end of this past year I was faced with a crossroads. I could either continue down my current path hating myself and eating what I wanted and not caring or I could try once again to do something about it and possibly fail.
I'm not sure what I did different. I had asked for God's help before and maybe it was my attitude. I stopped trying to lose weight so that I could look like everyone else or lose weight so that others would love me. I just decided that I wanted to lose some - even if it was like a pound every month just because I wanted it for me. I wanted to climb stairs without my knees hurting and I wanted to fit into my favorite red dress again. And I decided I wasn't going to set a defined goal. I was just going to do it and see what happened.
So in January I started getting up every morning before work and doing some crunches, sit ups and biking for like 12 minutes. It really wasn't much but it was a lot for me. Then I gradually added more reps and leg lifts and another minute on the bike each week. And Nate partnered with me to get up when I did so I wouldn't be tempted to stay in bed. For the most part I've been able to do it - I do have some mornings where I don't feel well (and no I'm not pregnant) or where I stay up until the wee hours and morning comes and it ain't gonna happen. But then I just get up the day after. I think its partially wanting to and the fear that if I don't get up consistently I'll quit again that drives me to keep going. I didn't even start weighing myself until last week because I was afraid of how much I had gained. This week I'm up to 17 minutes on the bike and I burned 400 calories this morning. Its the most I've ever burned and for me I'm proud. No I'm not doing the daily recommended 20 or 30 minutes a day. And I'm not counting every calorie (I had pizza 2 nights ago) but I feel healthier and stronger and I swear my pants fit better. I'm happier with myself than I've ever been.
Because I realized something - if I get up in the morning Satan can't make me feel bad about myself all day saying "Oh you fat lazy person you didn't get up and work out today." Nope because I did. I have even been afraid to write about it thinking that that will make it like all of the other times when I have tried and failed and then everyone would read about me downing a gallon of ice cream and witness me falling off the wagon yet again.
But I figure whatever. Lord willing I'll be doing the same thing 6 months from now. I probably won't be a size 6 but I'll feel better. And that's fine with me. (Personally I don't think a size 6 is lurking under here anywhere - I have Texas bones ;) )