Denial Weighs a Lot
There's something I haven't talked about in a long time, partly because I don't think its interesting enough to commit to paper for the thousandth time, but mainly because I don't want to really think about it. Funny thing is, for as much as I try to avoid the subject, it's in my head more than once a day. I look in the mirror and notice how full my face looks or I feel uncomfortable in a bra that once fit me well. My stomach looks like a desert island floating in the middle of the sea of my bathtub when I lie on my back, or I can actually feel my skin fold when I slouch in the computer chair. I have to face the fact that I've slipped back into fatness.
By society's standards, I haven't been less than fat since John and I started dating almost ten years ago. By Hollywood's standards, I haven't been less than fat since� well� never. Maybe once, when my age was in single digits, but even then I had a little padding. I thought I was damn skinny, but I was fatter at seven than some adult actresses are now. At thirteen, I may have weighed as much as some of them, and I was only about five feet tall then, but that's another subject, and I won't allow myself to get off track here.
The thing is� I have been off track. I've been derailed for two months now. Being off track means being more and more influenced by the effects of gravity. And why would that happen? Well, that happened because being off track means not exercising. I haven't run. I haven't even walked. I haven't done Tae-Bo in such a long time that Billy doesn't even nag me anymore. I haven't ridden my pretty mountain bike, and it feels so neglected that it's trying to convince the cats that if the two of them worked together, they could cruise the streets in style. Lucky for me, my cats are lazy meatloafs (I don't like the way meatloaves sounds. Meatloafs seems much better.) just like me.
So I'm officially fat again in my own mind, though I was never not fat according to the government, like that's really relevant anyway. It seems even while writing about my newly confessed return to fatness, I'm still trying to get off on a tangent, so I continue to avoid the truth. But no more!
I avoid this because I don't like it. That's all there is to it. I don't like myself and I don't like myself for not liking myself. All that dislike keeps heaping on top of the last pile of dislike, until there's so much of it that you can't call it anything but hatred. The sick feeling when I look in the mirror, the disgust when I pull on the fat pants, the misery at the thought of going anywhere that I have to dress nice, all ball up into self-hatred. It's a sad cycle, and I'm well routed in it by now.
I can't believe I let it get this bad. I reached a goal and had lots of momentum only to get injured. I let that sideline me far longer than I should have, and once I was in the excuse machine, I couldn't seem to get out. I've had some good ones too. We've been sick. I am getting used to a new routine of being gone five hours a day. We've had tons of things to do. The days are shorter. Blah. Blah. Blah. It really all comes down to the fact I can't make time for exercise. I haven't made time for exercise. I also continued to eat like I was training for a race. There won't be any races in the near future in my current condition. I don't even know if I'll be able to do the marathon in May now. I was supposed to start conditioning for that back in October. So, maybe I'll have to settle for the 5K.
I know I have to get a goal again. That will jolt me out of this slump and get me back to what I love. I'm one of those strange people that likes exercise. The problem for me is actually getting myself to start the routine and sticking to it that first few days.
One facet of me is a fat girl, and she doesn't like to be denied. She fights the exercise. She tells me to take naps and watch TV and eat all the sweets in the house. She makes Hammy walk the dog. She parks closer to stores. She always wants a second helping and doesn't like leftovers because that meant there was food left that could have been eaten. She bakes cookies even though she knows she will eat them all day long. She thinks salad just takes up room where real food should go. She's also whiny and bitchy a lot of the time, because she doesn't feel good and her knee hurts and she's tired. Yes, that girl is very much a part of me.
I like to think there is an athlete inside of me as well. She likes to run. She loves the outdoors. She thinks camping in a tent is a grand idea of a vacation. She doesn't make the kids do anything for her, because she can always use the exercise. She hates missing her run/walk/workout and feels deprived when she can't do it. She makes exercise a priority in her life, and she will even get up early if she has to just to get it in. She eats well, because she knows it makes her feel better. She wants to take care of herself and feed her body well. She is happy much of the time. She is hardly ever sick. She also looks pretty good too. She loves workout clothes almost as much as shoes. And she thinks running 26 miles or hiking up a 14,000 foot mountain peak is a fun challenge. There are sparkles of that in me, but I would like to see that girl fully materialize.
I think Fat Cindy really wants to beat Athlete Cindy up, but she's too out of shape to do it. Lucky for me. That means I have a chance. AC is way too nice to ever do anything bad to FC, but sometimes I wish she would.
All this crazy talk is going to put me in the loony bin. At least there my meals would be regulated a little better.
Anyway, I'm beginning a new plan. Since Weider bought the Asimba web site, it hasn't been working like it did. That depresses me because it was my favorite fitness site on the whole web. Damn those big corporations! (I'm looking at you too, Yahoo!) I was smart enough to print out all the workouts I might like to do as well as the menus and training program I was doing earlier this year. I'm going back to those for now, and if John actually has a job after the first of the year, I may even join a gym. I think I might start a separate fitness journal, because there are lots of people who don't like that in a journal. Of course, there are others that do, so it will still be somewhere.
I'm already feeling a little better about myself. A little. I also feel the waistband of my jeans digging into my stomach like a cleaver too. I can't wait until the day I can list these babies on the "things I got rid of" list.
Today I got rid of:
I know I said this was on hiatus, but then I felt guilty and I threw something away anyway
Two bandage boxes, because I actually consolidated all bandages to one box
Battery box for the same reason
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One year ago - Plans Awry
I thought I'd get to be a bum, but responsibility snuck in
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One Year Ago Today:
