I wish I could give you all some great inspiration today. Hell, I wish I could give myself some.
The sad, sad truth of the matter is: I am tired of being on a damned diet.
I am tired of reading labels. I am tired of trying to figure out points on every damned thing I eat. I am tired of looking at my belly and my behind and wondering if they look bigger than the day before. I am tired of telling people that I have lost about 40 pounds for a month straight because I can’t seem to make it past that mark. The thing I am most tired of is going to the weigh in and only losing a pound or less than a pound. At this current rate, I will die of old age before I reach any kind of goal weight ( not that I really have a goal weight)
I just did the heavy sigh thing.
I have begun to understand the ins and outs of my healthy lifestyle friends. I watch them eat sticks and fiberous things with their fruit. I watch them eat paper and fungus derived beverages and raw fish. I watch them exercise their proverbial asses off so that they can have a cocktail or a night on the town. I see them pass on delicious sauces at fabulous restaurants. It’s sad making. All that wonderful food, so carefully and deliciously prepared, shunned as if it were malignant.
They all look fabulous in their clothes. They never ever worry about how long their jacket hangs. They tuck in their shirts.
I want that too. So, I pass on the sauce that I know will make my eyes roll back in my head, even if I can’t tuck my shirt in today.
I don’t want to go backwards. I don’t want to put the weight back on. I am finding myself becoming apathetic to the point count at a meal. I hear that rebellious snot in the back of my head saying ” Eff this, Susan…how about some wings tonight?” I never do it, but I find the want of it is increasing.
I love to go out. I do. Last night I found myself telling Sondra that we need to stop going out. The cocktails and salt in the food is doing me in. I have always though of that as “livin” just experiencing all of the glorious things that this life has to offer.
Now I feel like I am taking away part of my life to live longer….how is that right?
So I am back to my old time 64 thousand dollar question:
Is it better to die young having eaten what you wanted, danced as often as you wanted, loved as hard as you have wanted, drank what you wanted whenever you wanted and experienced all the great dishes on the smorgasbord this life has to offer, or is it better to live long life of moderation?
I am still debating that……sigh again…..sitting on my plateau of 40 pounds….waiting for the energy of my weight loss to shift into gear again.
I am staying with it. I am. I don’t freaking like it… but I am staying.
There’s a difference. There is a difference in my fearlessness. There is a difference in my girth. There is a difference in my life because 40 pounds allows me freedom of movement and gives me opportunities that I didn’t have anymore when I was at my top weight ( that shall never be mentioned, don’t ask)
I can cross my legs again.
Hang in there with me, love monkeys. Love me through it, I sure am trying to do it for myself.