The other day I was killing time on Facebook, and Shay (former contestant on The Biggest Loser) posted something that stuck with me. To my core.
So, apparently, I’m not fat, but much like the LOLCATS, I haz fat because I haz cheeseburgers.
Lots of them. Lots of fat. Blah.
This year, I started my New Year’s resolution with great promise. I was eating well, exercising, and was generally positive. I ate about 1600-1800 calories a day, fell in love with Turbo Fire, and was super PSYCHED. I lost about 16 pounds, felt proud, happy. Then came crazy work stuff, and then came awful ankle injury. I never bounced back after that, but you know what did bounce back?
The weight I friggin lost.
As of today, I’ve lost 1.2 pounds this year. If I were to break that down into a weekly average, it’d be the equivalent of a sneeze per week. A SNEEZE, Y’ALL.
I don’t know the root of my problem, exactly. I believe it’s part laziness—I have a really stressful job (like SO STRESSFUL) and want to veg out in front of the TV when I get home and drink wine and eat white cheddar Cheetos. I believe it’s part habit—I have a habit of making poor food choices. I believe it’s part social influence—happy hour, anyone? I believe that I have the power to change, yet don’t. Why?
But the biggest part is information overload. I’ve read books that state that wheat is the devil and impedes weight loss. I’ve read that eating animal protein will cause cancer. I’ve read that eating nothing but animal protein will help me lose weight. I’ve read that diet soda is the culprit. I’ve read sugar, plus wheat, is the spawn of satan and should be avoided at all costs. WHAT DO I DO!?!
All these things create a crazed Monica. I’ll start off my day with a no/low carb plan, but then I’m thinking…wow, all you ate was eggs, butter, and bacon, Monica. That’s bad. For lunch have a soup, salad, and sandwich with lots of carbs. And repeat. I start with one thing, and end up doing another. I don’t stick to any plan at all.
Madness. Complete and utter madness. Recently, I went back to Zumba classes for a month, but my calves were in a helluva lot of pain, so I quit. Not worth a potential injury. I’m thinking of starting Turbo Jam again. I love that exercise program because I get to punch. A lot.
There’s something wrong with my brain that doesn’t connect properly, I’m telling ya. This doesn’t have to be so hard, so why am I making it hard? But it is hard. We all know that. I haven’t narrowed down what works for me. What’s not working for me is this extra weight. Above everything else, even health (though I do care about health), I just want to shop in normal stores. I hate being out with a friend, and they do the whole, “Oh you would totally fit into the clothes there, I do! Well let’s go in anyway and you can watch ME shop for the clothes YOU can’t fit into, ok?”
And you want to punch them in the throat. Does it look like I fit into the clothes at Ann Taylor? Or Francesca’s? Um, no. Sadly, no. And I know my friends probably could care less about my size (and I have amazing friends), but I am so tired of this. And also? Lane Bryant is so darn expensive. Dear lord. I need to lose weight so that it’s not the only option anymore.
My question to you, my readers, what do I do? What would you do if you were me? Pick a plan, stick to it? Do a hybrid? Please don’t tell me moderation because I obviously still don’t have that whole concept down.
Here’s a photo of my skinniest weight in the past 4-ish years taken a month before my wedding.
I wish I would have worked harder to maintain that oh-so-perfect weight.
Bottom line—something has got to give.
Too bad I can’t just give my fat away.