Week 4, Weigh in 2:
- 4 lbs total
The last two weeks have been a challenge. The sharp focus I had on my prize in early January began to blur, and my willpower was tested frequently by chocolate, carbohydrates of any kind, and ruthless woman named aptly named Ruthie who drags a red wagon full of Girl Scout Cookies through my office 12 times a day. Doubt, the anti-companion of any attempt I’ve ever made at weight loss waged its first attack in an all-too familiar internal battle: The part of me that thinks this is too hard and too overwhelming vs. the part of me that wants to believe it IS possible for me to reach a goal weight.
Monday night, my restlessness had reached critical mass and I knew that some kind of action was required. I took a long walk and weighed my options. There weren’t many of them.
1) Quit 2) Not Quit
As soon as I gave myself permission to think about it that way, like I had a choice in the matter, I knew exactly what I wanted.
I wanted to wear any dress from any store of my choosing to this year’s Christmas parties.
I wanted to know that my situation is not hopeless.
I wanted change.
I wanted the self-assurance I remember feeling two years ago when I had lost 55 pounds.
A memory of that time cut suddenly into my thoughts and I remembered a day when I’d gone to Charming Charlie’s and found the perfect pair of boots to slide over my size 10 skinny jeans. I don’t even like selfies, but I sure did take one and put it on the blog that day. Then I’d gone to Whole Foods and eaten lunch from the salad bar. It was incredible to feel so at home and so free and so in control of my own body.
I clung to that memory for several blocks, running through it again and again, recounting the treasure of it, and each time different details came back to me and it would become more complete. I remembered that I’d found this joy over not needing unhealthy food. I really liked healthy food I and liked that I had become picky about what I put into my body. I enjoyed making sure vegetables were part of at least two meals a day. The discovery of what a healthy body feels like had been nearly intoxicating and vastly more enjoyable than any high I’d ever gotten from processed sugar. At that very specific point in my journey, I didn’t know what it meant to feel angst over food choices. That battle had been won and the temptation of overeating had lost.
The sliver of hopefulness that came out of my reminiscing was just enough, and in a moment of clarity I knew I needed to fast on Tuesday. It would be a chance to detach from the intensity of losing weight and get a change of perspective. So I did. It was frustrating at moments. At others, it was awesome. When I fell into bed that night having proved to myself that I am not a slave to food, it was well worth it.
So I’m not quitting.