March 2010

I had a breakthrough moment tonight. My trainer made me jump rope, and it was horrible. It was horrible because I had to do it standing in front of a mirror. Watching myself jump up and down, my body wiggling and sweating and moving in places I really wished it wouldn’t, I was forced to take a very honest look at myself. I’ve done a pretty swell job of convincing myself that I look pretty good in my clothes. That I’m not really “fat” per se, that I’m just sort of a cute kind of ummm… you know, chubby.

Fail.

I am way more than chubby. I am, in no uncertain terms, quite fat. As it slowly started to hit me, the gravity of my situation, I felt my eyes welling up with tears. It was a brutal moment. One where I realized that this journey would be exactly that – a journey. If 3500 calories is the equivalent of one pound of fat, it will take me burning at least 500 calories a day in order to lose 1 pound of fat per week. Which means it will take me many, many weeks to lose 75 pounds, which is what I need to lose to hit my goal of 130 pounds. Wow.

I’m not going to set a date. In the past, that has always turned out to be just one more thing for me to fail at. One more reason for me to give up when I realize my “date” is almost here and my “goal” is nowhere near being reached. I don’t care how long it takes. I don’t care if it takes me until next year. I will keep on keepin’ on. If I cry, I cry. But to hell with the excuses, with the pity parties, with the wishful thinking and the daydreams. This is it, this is now, this is what I’ve got. I’ve got legs that can run, I’ve got arms that can lift and I have a core that, with a little (ok a lot) of help, can take me to the heights of athleticism. I want it. My Nanny (what I call my grandmother on my Mom’s side) has always told me that I can do anything I want if I want it bad enough. Well, I’m 25, and I finally, finally want it bad enough.

{ 1 comment }