I have been a little anxious about my measure in tomorrow.
It is ridiculous that I feel a little cheated that because I don’t have a massive amount of weight to lose – or any that I’m aiming for really – That I feel my results aren’t going to be as significant as other people who may be weighing in?
I don’t have big changes to make.
Mentally and emotionally that’s a whole other story!I have to search hard for the changes.
I have to strain to see them.
It frustrates me that because I was never “fat” what I’m doing isn’t seen by a lot of people as a major accomplishment.
I should just shut up and let the people making big changes have their glory.
My sister(s) are making big changes at the moment.
In particular, one has supported me.
Listened to me bitch about it being hard being skinny, all the while, literally working her arse off.
She pushes me at the gym and in turn, I support her.
She doesn’t need me pushing her – she is amazingly driven.
Occasionally, I wonder what the point is.
No one notices.
I wonder if the physical pain is worth it.
The early mornings, are they worth it.
The sometimes tears – both mine and those of my children who sometimes miss out on seeing me as much as they’d like because I need to do this for me.
The cost of eating healthy.
The constant awareness of what I’m putting in my body.
The time it consumes.
And then my Dexter will say to me “We don’t eat that cake, it’s not good for our body, we work better without it.”
Or I will jump on the trampoline with them, holding Dolores in my arms and my arms (and pelvic floor!) are strong enough to hold on.
I step back occasionally, after these moments and I think about how I really feel.
I know there is a whole world of “Pain is temporary, quitting is forever” quotes, so I won’t bore you with any.
But I do know (on days Dexter isn’t up 4 times a night) I feel happier.
In general, life is brighter.
I’m not getting anxiety related heart palpitations any more.
I don’t have a constant niggle in the back of my mind that maybe I might die today because of my blood pressure or whatever.
I feel more alive.
I feel more in control.
I feel more attractive, strong and powerful when I can hardly lift my arms and I’m red and sweating after a boxing session than I ever did getting dressed up to turn heads.
Don’t get me wrong – I do still enjoy that.
I was anxious about weigh in/measure in day because I have to strain to see the changes but, to be honest, even if those scales measure a gain – which they did yesterday – I’m not going to mind so much.
Because I’ve gained something much more important than half a kilo over this last month.
I’ve gained strength.
I’ve gained stamina.
I’ve gained confidence.
I’ve gained persistence.
And I’ve gained a new-found respect for my body and it’s abilities.