Funny how even the grandest and worthiest of intentions can get flung to the wayside. But then again, when it comes to getting healthy and losing weight, this is the story of my life. Get sick and tired of feeling sick and tired, feel motivated and determined to make big changes, tell the world "This is IT!," go hard core for a week or two, see no results because my body fights me at every turn, get mad and discouraged and frustrated and throw my chubby hands up in the air and eat an entire pizza. Lather, rinse, repeat.
Warning: If you don't find whining and sniveling attractive, today's blog post may not be up your alley. Consider yourself warned.
Resume whining and sniveling in 3, 2, 1 ...
My most recent onset of the "This is it!" disorder struck me a few weeks ago when I heard of a local gym that was sponsoring a Biggest Loser competition, complete with a trainer, a team, team workouts, team challenges, weigh-ins, and full access to the gym for the full 12 weeks of the competition. The most appealing aspect of this competition to me? ACCOUNTABILITY. Knowing that I have a team counting on me and that my numbers will be posted for everyone to see are key. WAY key. So, I handed over the $250 last Monday night, stepped on the scale (GAH!), and began a week of hard workouts and perfect eating. Knowing how hard and how often I'd worked out this week and how many times I'd watched my family eat the "good" food while I ate the spinach greens and chicken breast or egg whites, I was SOOOO excited to get on that scale this morning for that second weigh-in, the one that was going to blow them away because it was so awesomely awesome. I braced myself for the look of shock on the skinny gym receptionist chick's face when she saw how much weight I'd lost. I was ready to feel that sense of accomplishment and victory, not to mention putting everyone else to shame with my jaw-dropping results.
And the results: 0. ZERO pounds lost. Not even one or two. Just zero. Followed by me grabbing my complimentary Biggest Loser gym bag and my shoes and rushing out to my car before anyone could see me burst into tears.
Why? Why am I doing this? Why am I writing down every last morsel that I eat, obsessing over every bite of food that goes into my mouth, balancing proteins and good carbs and fruits and veggies and fats, staying away from chips and crackers and cookies and white flour, working out until my face is purple and I'm drowning in my own sweat, only to have my heart shattered into a million tiny pieces by an inanimate object that shows me numbers that don't even BEGIN to match up to the amount of work and consistency I have put in over the last seven days? HOW in the world does a person stay motivated to keep at it, to never give up, when the results don't come? Those first weeks are supposed to be the weeks when the weight falls off at the highest rate. If week one looks like this for me, where do I go from here? It only gets harder with the results coming less easily. I've watched enough episodes of the real Biggest Loser to know that.
This has been my world for the past few years. So much frustration. So much work. So much disappointment and giving up and starting over. And now, just when I thought all this disappointment and frustration couldn't be any more fun, I have teammates whom I get to let down as well.
Help? Anyone? Fat is kicking my butt and leaving me crying like a girl in a wrung out heap on the floor.
