Yesterday was one of THOSE days. I apparently left my brain at home that morning because I acted like an airhead on more than one occasion, and a bunch of little things at work added up to make one frustrating day. I came home feeling tired and defeated. Then I made dinner, which was poppyseed chicken that I had taken out of the freezer. I was so proud for having a meal stashed away that I could just whip out and put in the oven, but then I ended up cooking it too long, and it tasted dry and unsatisfying. That means that of course after dinner, I wanted something else. So I had a scoop of mint chocolate chip ice cream, and that wasn't satisfying either. Instead of distracting myself with something besides food (like, I don't know, PRAYER), I just finished off the container (there was probably about 2 scoops left in there, so 3 scoops in all). Then I sat there feeling weak and pathetic. I had planned to do a quick 2 mile workout using an oldie but goodie fitness DVD, but after eating all that ice cream, I just felt gross. The thought crossed my mind: "I've already blown it today, so why bother?"
WHY do I think this way? I am sure anyone else who has tried to lose weight has experienced similar moments (please tell me I am not alone in this!). If I don't follow my plan to the letter, then the temptation to abandon it altogether is strong. If I don't have time for a solid 45- or 60-minute workout, then I often skip exercising altogether because I can't do as much as I would like. I tell myself it has to be all or nothing, and when I can't do it all, far too often I choose to do nothing.
Of course, this whole mindset is ridiculous! As I've written before, I wouldn't do this in other areas of my life. If I overslept for work, I wouldn't just miss the whole day. If I failed a test, I certainly wouldn't quit going to class (well, except for that one time in college when I dropped Advanced Spanish Literature, but I digress). I realized last night that the problem is perfectionism. I set these lofty, often impossible expectations for myself, and if I don't think I can perfectly meet them, then I stop trying. Even though I know I know I KNOW I will never be perfect, I still insist on having this perfectionist mentality. The reality, however, is that I am just setting myself up for failure because perfection is not attainable. I will lose that contest every time.
So I'm changing the rules. Instead of trying to be perfect, I am just going to do something. Last night I may have overeaten, but that didn't mean I couldn't redeem the evening by also exercising. So even though it was 8:30, I pulled out that DVD, and I did 25 minutes of "power walking." No, it wasn't an hour. No, it probably didn't even come close to burning the amount of calories needed to make up for that ice cream. But it was better than nothing, and I will take something over nothing any day.
The wonderful thing about each day that we are given is that we don't have to end it in failure. By God's grace, we can find redemption, whether that's in the form of a quick run around the block, or an apology to your spouse or friend, or a much-needed phone call with a loved one.
What about you? Do you struggle with perfectionism, and if so, how do you combat it?
Showing posts with label perspective. Show all posts
Showing posts with label perspective. Show all posts
Tuesday, May 7, 2013
Monday, January 21, 2013
The Slowest Loser: Five Years and Counting
On January 21, 2008, I stepped on a scale for the first time in months and saw a number I never thought I would see: 261.4. That day sparked the beginning of a journey for me, a journey to change my life and lose 100 pounds. I blogged about it here.
Five years and one baby later, and I now weigh 167.6 pounds. I know that when I began this journey, I never would have guessed that five years down the road I STILL wouldn't be at my goal weight, but I also know that there are few things I could have truly anticipated. If I did know how hard and how long I would struggle, I don't know if I even would have tried to lose the weight at all. There is a reason God doesn't allow us to see the future. :)
To prevent myself from being all Negative Nelly about the fact that I am not at my goal weight, I decided to make a list of things I accomplished in the last year. Over the last year, I:
1. Lost 16.6 pounds.
2. Completed my first half marathon.
3. Achieved a new 5k PR (personal record).
4. Fit into size 12 pants.
5. Fit into size medium shirts.
6. Completed 30 consecutive days of exercise (with a fantastic group of people on Facebook)
7.Tried Weight Watchers and had success with it.
Honestly, the past year was really tough for me. I struggled to lose the last of the post-pregnancy weight (if it can even be called that--my daughter will be 2 in March). I felt as though I would never reach goal, and I was frustrated by my seeming inability to control myself around food. Then I got the shock of my life in the fall when I was diagnosed with ulcerative colitis, and for once in my life, weight loss was the farthest thing from my mind. In the first weeks after my diagnosis, my only focus was to get well. That still is my ultimate focus, as the medications I am taking have not led me into remission yet. But the best way that I can help my body is to treat it kindly, and that means I need to start taking nutrition and exercise more seriously. I allowed myself to become lazy and undisciplined, and I am going to have to jump off the lazy train if I am going to shed these final 10 pounds.
And now, a pictorial walk down memory lane:
It's hard to believe that it's taken me 5 years to get to this point. Apparently I am going for the "Slowest Loser Award." While I am tempted to beat myself up about how long it has taken me to lose this weight, the fact remains that I have lost 94 pounds and have entered every year for the last 5 years at a smaller weight than the year previous (excluding the year I was pregnant). Though I didn't achieve my original goal of losing 100 pounds in a year (I laugh at that goal now), I have managed to keep off a significant amount of weight for a long period of time, and I have never done that before.
If nothing else comes of this blog, I want the people reading it to know that weight loss is possible. You may not lose 20 pounds in a month, but if you lose one pound, that's one less pound you're carrying around with you. You may not ever be a size 2, but how you live your life matters more than the number on the inside of your pants. You may feel like you will never get to your goal, but isn't it better to try than to just wonder if you could? You may feel like you have too much to lose and that you've tried countless times before, and I get that. I have been there. I spent most of my life overweight, and sometimes I thought that's just the way it was meant to be. But you know what? All it takes is one day. Make healthy choices just for today, and then tomorrow, do it all over again.
You can do it. I can do it. Start today.
Five years and one baby later, and I now weigh 167.6 pounds. I know that when I began this journey, I never would have guessed that five years down the road I STILL wouldn't be at my goal weight, but I also know that there are few things I could have truly anticipated. If I did know how hard and how long I would struggle, I don't know if I even would have tried to lose the weight at all. There is a reason God doesn't allow us to see the future. :)
To prevent myself from being all Negative Nelly about the fact that I am not at my goal weight, I decided to make a list of things I accomplished in the last year. Over the last year, I:
1. Lost 16.6 pounds.
2. Completed my first half marathon.
3. Achieved a new 5k PR (personal record).
4. Fit into size 12 pants.
5. Fit into size medium shirts.
6. Completed 30 consecutive days of exercise (with a fantastic group of people on Facebook)
7.Tried Weight Watchers and had success with it.
Honestly, the past year was really tough for me. I struggled to lose the last of the post-pregnancy weight (if it can even be called that--my daughter will be 2 in March). I felt as though I would never reach goal, and I was frustrated by my seeming inability to control myself around food. Then I got the shock of my life in the fall when I was diagnosed with ulcerative colitis, and for once in my life, weight loss was the farthest thing from my mind. In the first weeks after my diagnosis, my only focus was to get well. That still is my ultimate focus, as the medications I am taking have not led me into remission yet. But the best way that I can help my body is to treat it kindly, and that means I need to start taking nutrition and exercise more seriously. I allowed myself to become lazy and undisciplined, and I am going to have to jump off the lazy train if I am going to shed these final 10 pounds.
And now, a pictorial walk down memory lane:
 |
| On my honeymoon, June 2007. I don't really know what I weighed at this point. |
 |
| March 2008, about 2 months after I started trying to lose weight. I had lost 15 pounds at that point. |
 |
| March 2009, after I FINALLY saw 199 on the scale. |
 | |
| July 2010. I was actually a month pregnant in this picture and around 170 pounds. I think I look better in this picture than I do right now. |
 | |||||||
October 2011, around 185 pounds |
After my half marathon on March 31, 2012, around 175 pounds.
Today, at 167 pounds:
It's hard to believe that it's taken me 5 years to get to this point. Apparently I am going for the "Slowest Loser Award." While I am tempted to beat myself up about how long it has taken me to lose this weight, the fact remains that I have lost 94 pounds and have entered every year for the last 5 years at a smaller weight than the year previous (excluding the year I was pregnant). Though I didn't achieve my original goal of losing 100 pounds in a year (I laugh at that goal now), I have managed to keep off a significant amount of weight for a long period of time, and I have never done that before.
If nothing else comes of this blog, I want the people reading it to know that weight loss is possible. You may not lose 20 pounds in a month, but if you lose one pound, that's one less pound you're carrying around with you. You may not ever be a size 2, but how you live your life matters more than the number on the inside of your pants. You may feel like you will never get to your goal, but isn't it better to try than to just wonder if you could? You may feel like you have too much to lose and that you've tried countless times before, and I get that. I have been there. I spent most of my life overweight, and sometimes I thought that's just the way it was meant to be. But you know what? All it takes is one day. Make healthy choices just for today, and then tomorrow, do it all over again.
You can do it. I can do it. Start today.
Friday, January 20, 2012
Four Years
January 21, 2008. That was the day I decided to change my life. I was fat and not happy about it, and I was tired of just accepting it. I had told myself in the past that I was just meant to be fat since I'd spent most of my life that way, but I knew that wasn't true. The only way I would be destined to be fat forever is if I chose it. On January 21, 2008, I chose NOT to be fat forever. I made a list of reasons why I needed to change, and I made a plan of attack. Slowly but surely, changes started happening. I woke up early and went to the gym. I joined SparkPeople and began tracking my calories. It was tough, it was frustrating, it was challenging, but I kept doing it. I'm STILL doing it. Four years later, here's where I am and where I hope to be (all of the links are to past blog posts):
1. I went from only being able to do about 10 minutes on the elliptical to being able to run a 5k. I've run in 3 5k races and one 4 miler. I even trained for (but didn't complete) a half marathon, working my way up to 11 miles. I hope to achieve the goal of running a half marathon this year.
2. I went from 261 pounds to 180 pounds. I briefly dipped down to 167 right before I got pregnant with Charlotte, and I will get back there again. I hope to eventually weigh between 155 and 160 pounds.
3. I went from a size 24 to a size 16. I was a 14 before I got pregnant with Charlotte. I hope to end up a size 12.
(Pictures taken Thursday night in my size 24 jeans. My face is beet red because I had
just finished a workout my 261 pound self would have never attempted: a 2
mile run followed by Level 1 of 30 Day Shred.)
4. I went from a 49-inch waist (!) to a 36.5-inch waist.
5. I went from an XXL t-shirt to a large. I bet I will be able to wear a medium soon.
6. I have made drinking at least 64 ounces of water a daily habit.
7. I have made exercising a weekly habit. Some weeks are better than others, but aside from right after I had Charlotte, there have been very few weeks when I haven't exercised at all.
8. I have learned (and some days am still learning) to feel more comfortable in my own skin and appreciate even my least favorite features, like my flabby arms.
9. I have tried different types of exercise that I never would have tried before, including yoga, Pilates, kickboxing, and Zumba.
10. I actually had enough guts to post my weight on the Internet.
11. I have learned that even skinny people have problems. Being skinny does not guarantee a problem-free existence.
12. I have learned that being healthy is about more than being skinny.
13. I have learned that the things worth working for are often the hardest.
14. I learned how to lift weights and even got used to being the only female in the weights section of the gym.
15. Most important of all, I have learned that all of this is worthless if I do not honor the Lord. I have made food an idol in my life, and at times I have even made weight loss an idol, and if I let those things become an obsession and do not chase after Jesus, then it's all in vain. He must be everything.
Of course I wish I could write this post from the perspective of someone who's been at goal weight for a year or two, but that's someone else's story, not mine. My story isn't going to end up in a magazine. I'm not going to be on TV because of my amazing weight loss accomplishments. But that doesn't change the fact that I have lost 81 pounds. That doesn't change the fact that I am a far different person today than I was four years ago. And that's worth more than a spot on a TV show or magazine.
1. I went from only being able to do about 10 minutes on the elliptical to being able to run a 5k. I've run in 3 5k races and one 4 miler. I even trained for (but didn't complete) a half marathon, working my way up to 11 miles. I hope to achieve the goal of running a half marathon this year.
2. I went from 261 pounds to 180 pounds. I briefly dipped down to 167 right before I got pregnant with Charlotte, and I will get back there again. I hope to eventually weigh between 155 and 160 pounds.
3. I went from a size 24 to a size 16. I was a 14 before I got pregnant with Charlotte. I hope to end up a size 12.
4. I went from a 49-inch waist (!) to a 36.5-inch waist.
5. I went from an XXL t-shirt to a large. I bet I will be able to wear a medium soon.
6. I have made drinking at least 64 ounces of water a daily habit.
7. I have made exercising a weekly habit. Some weeks are better than others, but aside from right after I had Charlotte, there have been very few weeks when I haven't exercised at all.
8. I have learned (and some days am still learning) to feel more comfortable in my own skin and appreciate even my least favorite features, like my flabby arms.
9. I have tried different types of exercise that I never would have tried before, including yoga, Pilates, kickboxing, and Zumba.
10. I actually had enough guts to post my weight on the Internet.
11. I have learned that even skinny people have problems. Being skinny does not guarantee a problem-free existence.
12. I have learned that being healthy is about more than being skinny.
13. I have learned that the things worth working for are often the hardest.
14. I learned how to lift weights and even got used to being the only female in the weights section of the gym.
15. Most important of all, I have learned that all of this is worthless if I do not honor the Lord. I have made food an idol in my life, and at times I have even made weight loss an idol, and if I let those things become an obsession and do not chase after Jesus, then it's all in vain. He must be everything.
Of course I wish I could write this post from the perspective of someone who's been at goal weight for a year or two, but that's someone else's story, not mine. My story isn't going to end up in a magazine. I'm not going to be on TV because of my amazing weight loss accomplishments. But that doesn't change the fact that I have lost 81 pounds. That doesn't change the fact that I am a far different person today than I was four years ago. And that's worth more than a spot on a TV show or magazine.
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Weigh-in Wednesday: No More Numbers
Last week's weight: 188.2
This week's weight: 190.2
GAIN of 2 pounds
Yes, you read that right. I gained two pounds. In one week. Even though I exercised 4 times, the most I've exercised all month long. You wanna know how I managed thisawesome pathetic feat? I ate. I had a Blizzard one night, I had brownies two nights in a row, and on Monday night I ate my weight in food at Logan's.
I am completely embarrassed. And angry. And beyond frustrated. I don't know why I keep doing this to myself: see progress on the scale, then get elated and immediately loosen up on my eating.
But this morning I had a bit of an epiphany: this all goes back to how I respond to the number on the scale. When it's a good week, I'm ecstatic about my success, but this usually results in my slacking off, either with exercise or with tracking my food. When it's a bad week, I'm upset by my lack of progress, which usually results in the figurative (and sometimes literal) throwing up of my hands and adopting the "Well, I already blew it so I may as well eat what I want" mindset. Even I only do this for one day before getting my act together, I can do a LOT of damage in that one day. The way I see it: both the good and bad days on the scale have one thing in common: I react to that number by losing focus. Logically, I realize it makes NO SENSE for me to respond to a loss on the scale by eating more, but I've done it time and time again recently, so I have to face the facts. And logically, I realize it makes NO SENSE to react to a gain by eating more (since that's how I got the gain in the first place), and yet I've done that time and time again, too.
The solution?
I'm letting go of the scale. My husband hid it this morning, and I have no idea where it is. I'm not putting a time frame on this; I'm just going to live my life for a little while, focus on eating healthy and moving my body, and when I feel like the time is right, I'll ask my husband to take the scale out of hiding.
I'm completely terrified by this, but I think that's a sign that in fact this is a good idea. I have been letting the number on the scale define me, and I don't want that. Not one bit. And I definitely don't want my sweet, precious, beautiful baby girl to grow up with a mommy whose mood is determined by what some little inanimate object says. I want her to be confident in who she is and to feel beautiful and treasured and loved, and if I'm going to give that to her, I have to give it to myself as well. For right now, that means that the scale can't be the way I measure my progress. (More to come in a later post about how I do plan to measure my progress.)
So adios, scale. I don't know when we'll meet again, but I guarantee that when we do, you will hold no power over me.
This week's weight: 190.2
GAIN of 2 pounds
Yes, you read that right. I gained two pounds. In one week. Even though I exercised 4 times, the most I've exercised all month long. You wanna know how I managed this
I am completely embarrassed. And angry. And beyond frustrated. I don't know why I keep doing this to myself: see progress on the scale, then get elated and immediately loosen up on my eating.
But this morning I had a bit of an epiphany: this all goes back to how I respond to the number on the scale. When it's a good week, I'm ecstatic about my success, but this usually results in my slacking off, either with exercise or with tracking my food. When it's a bad week, I'm upset by my lack of progress, which usually results in the figurative (and sometimes literal) throwing up of my hands and adopting the "Well, I already blew it so I may as well eat what I want" mindset. Even I only do this for one day before getting my act together, I can do a LOT of damage in that one day. The way I see it: both the good and bad days on the scale have one thing in common: I react to that number by losing focus. Logically, I realize it makes NO SENSE for me to respond to a loss on the scale by eating more, but I've done it time and time again recently, so I have to face the facts. And logically, I realize it makes NO SENSE to react to a gain by eating more (since that's how I got the gain in the first place), and yet I've done that time and time again, too.
The solution?
I'm letting go of the scale. My husband hid it this morning, and I have no idea where it is. I'm not putting a time frame on this; I'm just going to live my life for a little while, focus on eating healthy and moving my body, and when I feel like the time is right, I'll ask my husband to take the scale out of hiding.
I'm completely terrified by this, but I think that's a sign that in fact this is a good idea. I have been letting the number on the scale define me, and I don't want that. Not one bit. And I definitely don't want my sweet, precious, beautiful baby girl to grow up with a mommy whose mood is determined by what some little inanimate object says. I want her to be confident in who she is and to feel beautiful and treasured and loved, and if I'm going to give that to her, I have to give it to myself as well. For right now, that means that the scale can't be the way I measure my progress. (More to come in a later post about how I do plan to measure my progress.)
So adios, scale. I don't know when we'll meet again, but I guarantee that when we do, you will hold no power over me.
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Weigh-in Wednesday
Last week's weight: 189.4
This week's weight: 188.2
LOSS of 1.2 pounds
Total for the month so far: 4.6 pounds
Well, rats. I am UP .4 pounds since I weighed on Monday. That makes no sense to me, since I have exercised every day this week and have stayed in my calorie range. Thus, I can only conclude that exercising and Facebook makes me gain weight. :) Guess I'll give up the exercising and go back to being lazy!
NOT.
I am hoping this is just a fluke and that I will be back down next week. Perhaps I'll just stay off the scale until next Wednesday instead of weighing every day. If I had done that this week, I would just be happy that I've lost 1.2 pounds since last week instead of being bummed that I'm up a bit from Monday's weight. Of course, if I hadn't weighed until today, I would still be off Facebook, so maybe I should log off again until next week and see what the number says.
Though I was tempted to be bummed this morning about the weigh-in, I'm making a choice to be glad instead. After all, I'm doing everything right for once, and so I should feel good about that. And I do. :)
Happy Wednesday to all of you!
This week's weight: 188.2
LOSS of 1.2 pounds
Total for the month so far: 4.6 pounds
Well, rats. I am UP .4 pounds since I weighed on Monday. That makes no sense to me, since I have exercised every day this week and have stayed in my calorie range. Thus, I can only conclude that exercising and Facebook makes me gain weight. :) Guess I'll give up the exercising and go back to being lazy!
NOT.
I am hoping this is just a fluke and that I will be back down next week. Perhaps I'll just stay off the scale until next Wednesday instead of weighing every day. If I had done that this week, I would just be happy that I've lost 1.2 pounds since last week instead of being bummed that I'm up a bit from Monday's weight. Of course, if I hadn't weighed until today, I would still be off Facebook, so maybe I should log off again until next week and see what the number says.
Though I was tempted to be bummed this morning about the weigh-in, I'm making a choice to be glad instead. After all, I'm doing everything right for once, and so I should feel good about that. And I do. :)
Happy Wednesday to all of you!
Friday, August 12, 2011
What If?
Jen posted this quote she found on Pinterest on her blog, and it made me stop and immediately repin it. (Are you on Pinterest? Find me! )
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Reading these words led me to play a little game of "What if?"
What if I hadn't weighed myself in January 2008?
What if I hadn't decided I was going to lose weight?
What if I had decided I was going to lose weight but then made no plan to actually do it?
What if I kept on eating and eating myself into oblivion?
What if I never became a runner?
What if I never knew what it felt like to finally reach ONEderland?
What if I never felt the thrill of losing 90 pounds?
What if I had never begun at all?
Those are some pretty weighty questions (excuse the terrible pun)! I think if I had not gotten a wakeup call in January 2008, it is very possible that I would weigh over 300 pounds right now. Think about it: I weighed 261 pounds on January 21, 2008, and that was UP at least 30 pounds from when I get married not even the year before! Who knows how much I would weigh right now if I kept gaining at that rate. It's a scary thought, and I am so thankful that I listened to that prompting in my heart (which I know was from the Lord) and did something about my weight problem.
I have found it very helpful to play this game of what if lately. With the exception of the past two weeks, my weight loss after Charlotte's birth was virtually non-existent, and I have been very open about the desire to quit that I have felt more than once. What keeps me from quitting--what keeps me trying day after day, even when I've messed up--is looking at how far I've come. I can't quit when I've already invested so many days of sweat and tears. I can't quit when I've already overcome so much.
This I know for sure: I don't want to look back a year from now and wish I had done something about my weight. I am doing something. Are you?
Reading these words led me to play a little game of "What if?"
What if I hadn't weighed myself in January 2008?
What if I hadn't decided I was going to lose weight?
What if I had decided I was going to lose weight but then made no plan to actually do it?
What if I kept on eating and eating myself into oblivion?
What if I never became a runner?
What if I never knew what it felt like to finally reach ONEderland?
What if I never felt the thrill of losing 90 pounds?
What if I had never begun at all?
Those are some pretty weighty questions (excuse the terrible pun)! I think if I had not gotten a wakeup call in January 2008, it is very possible that I would weigh over 300 pounds right now. Think about it: I weighed 261 pounds on January 21, 2008, and that was UP at least 30 pounds from when I get married not even the year before! Who knows how much I would weigh right now if I kept gaining at that rate. It's a scary thought, and I am so thankful that I listened to that prompting in my heart (which I know was from the Lord) and did something about my weight problem.
I have found it very helpful to play this game of what if lately. With the exception of the past two weeks, my weight loss after Charlotte's birth was virtually non-existent, and I have been very open about the desire to quit that I have felt more than once. What keeps me from quitting--what keeps me trying day after day, even when I've messed up--is looking at how far I've come. I can't quit when I've already invested so many days of sweat and tears. I can't quit when I've already overcome so much.
This I know for sure: I don't want to look back a year from now and wish I had done something about my weight. I am doing something. Are you?
Friday, April 9, 2010
Never Going Back
I got rid of most of my "fat clothes" a long time ago, but I kept a few items of clothing to remind myself of how far I've come. Tonight I decided to try on an old pair of jeans to see how much bigger they are on me now. Let's just say, they're a little on the large side:
I can't believe that these jeans used to FIT me. They're a size 24 (I'm a size 14 now). If I'd gained much more weight, I wouldn't have been able to find pants to fit me!
Putting on those jeans has made me even more determined NEVER to go back to being 261 pounds. Losing weight may be hard, but it feels much better than being 261 pounds!
I can't believe that these jeans used to FIT me. They're a size 24 (I'm a size 14 now). If I'd gained much more weight, I wouldn't have been able to find pants to fit me!
Putting on those jeans has made me even more determined NEVER to go back to being 261 pounds. Losing weight may be hard, but it feels much better than being 261 pounds!
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
My Arms: Exposed
It began with this post. Just one woman posting a tribute to her body and all that it does for her. That one post sparked a movement, with other bloggers posting their own pictures and tributes. I read one today by Lyn at Escape from Obesity, one of my favorite bloggers, and her post about her arms inspired me to do my own.
Longtime readers will remember my posts from last summer about my experiment with bearing my arms, arms which I viewed with more than a little bit of disgust, arms which I refer to as my "bat wings." I challenged myself to appreciate my arms for what they are and wore sleeveless shirts to try and be more comfortable in my own body. And it worked.
For a while.
Now that the weather is warmer and I've started wearing short-sleeved shirts, I've started noticing my arms again. Every time I reach for something at my desk, I see the flab. And it takes a lot of willpower for me not to instantly think, "Ugh, arm flab! Gross!" But I am trying to remember that 1) no one really cares about my arms, and 2) my arms happen to be an essential part of my body that can do a lot of fantastic things. They are not perfect--far from it--but they are mine, and they have come a long way.
Usually when I pose for pictures, I make sure my arm flab is not so prominent, but not today. Today I am going to grin and bear 'em. So, blog world, I present to you my arms in all their flabby glory:
What about you? What do you appreciate about your body?
P.S. THANK YOU for all of your wonderful, supportive comments on yesterday's post! I really, really appreciate them. You guys are awesome!
Longtime readers will remember my posts from last summer about my experiment with bearing my arms, arms which I viewed with more than a little bit of disgust, arms which I refer to as my "bat wings." I challenged myself to appreciate my arms for what they are and wore sleeveless shirts to try and be more comfortable in my own body. And it worked.
For a while.
Now that the weather is warmer and I've started wearing short-sleeved shirts, I've started noticing my arms again. Every time I reach for something at my desk, I see the flab. And it takes a lot of willpower for me not to instantly think, "Ugh, arm flab! Gross!" But I am trying to remember that 1) no one really cares about my arms, and 2) my arms happen to be an essential part of my body that can do a lot of fantastic things. They are not perfect--far from it--but they are mine, and they have come a long way.
Usually when I pose for pictures, I make sure my arm flab is not so prominent, but not today. Today I am going to grin and bear 'em. So, blog world, I present to you my arms in all their flabby glory:
What about you? What do you appreciate about your body?
P.S. THANK YOU for all of your wonderful, supportive comments on yesterday's post! I really, really appreciate them. You guys are awesome!
Monday, April 5, 2010
I've Got Some 'Splainin' to Do
(I never thought I'd borrow from I Love Lucy to get a blog title, but there's a first time for everything.) There's no easy way to say this, so I'm just going to say it:
I am not going to run the half marathon.
Looking back, I think this decision has been a long time coming, but it was only until tonight that I gave myself permission to say the words out loud: "I'm not going to run the half marathon." And the minute I said those words, I felt one thing: relief. Immense relief.
You see, I have been stressed out about this half marathon for weeks. I began dreading every long run. Yes, I had one glorious 11 mile run, but my other long runs? They were not glorious. Mostly they were hard and even painful. I can't seem to run more than 5 miles without experiencing pain in my hips. Tonight I headed out, with the intention of knocking out one final 2 hour run before the half on April 17. However, not five minutes into my run, I got a cramp in my right side. Then a cramp in my left side. I ran a mile and a half with that cramp before walking. And I kept thinking, "What if the race is like this? Hip pain and side cramps. Do I really want to put myself through over two hours of discomfort?" I started thinking about why I wanted to run a half marathon. Deep down, I want to run it so I can say that I did it, but shouldn't there be more to it than that?
Tears came to my eyes as I walked and thought about the race, and I realized how much stress--how much pressure--I've been putting on myself, and for what? So I can say I ran 13.1 miles? I stayed at the park for an hour before heading home, and I called my mom for advice. I asked her, "Mom, would you still love me if I didn't run a half marathon?" Of course I knew the answer to that question, but the very fact that I asked it told my mom I'd been taking all of this way too seriously, and she helped me to see that I've made this race into such a huge thing that it threatened to swallow me up. I have always tended toward perfectionism, toward striving for the absolute best, and yet this striving often made me miserable. In school all I cared about was making an A, but I was often stressed and unhappy and dissatisfied. And here I am in a similar situation: striving so badly for something that I think I want and just making myself miserable in the process.
It's silly and foolish, but the prideful part of me didn't want to have to tell people I didn't go through with the half marathon after I've spent so much time and energy writing about it and preparing for it. The prideful part of me also felt like I had to run this race so I wouldn't let people down, so I wouldn't disappoint those of you who read this blog and have been supporting me. Some of you may read this and think I am crazy for making this decision, and I am prepared for that. Or maybe some of you already thought I was crazy, to which I say, "Duh." :) At some point, though, I have to forget about what other people think. (How much easier my life would be if I could forget about what other people think!)
Ultimately, I decided not to run in the half marathon because I want a race like that to be done because I truly enjoy it, not because I feel like I have something to prove or some standard to live up to. The truth is, I enjoy shorter runs more than long ones, and that's okay. I have to realize that just because other people have run a marathon or half marathon doesn't mean I have to. It doesn't negate the other things I've accomplished.
I am healthy. I am happy. I am LOVED. That is more than enough.
I am not going to run the half marathon.
Looking back, I think this decision has been a long time coming, but it was only until tonight that I gave myself permission to say the words out loud: "I'm not going to run the half marathon." And the minute I said those words, I felt one thing: relief. Immense relief.
You see, I have been stressed out about this half marathon for weeks. I began dreading every long run. Yes, I had one glorious 11 mile run, but my other long runs? They were not glorious. Mostly they were hard and even painful. I can't seem to run more than 5 miles without experiencing pain in my hips. Tonight I headed out, with the intention of knocking out one final 2 hour run before the half on April 17. However, not five minutes into my run, I got a cramp in my right side. Then a cramp in my left side. I ran a mile and a half with that cramp before walking. And I kept thinking, "What if the race is like this? Hip pain and side cramps. Do I really want to put myself through over two hours of discomfort?" I started thinking about why I wanted to run a half marathon. Deep down, I want to run it so I can say that I did it, but shouldn't there be more to it than that?
Tears came to my eyes as I walked and thought about the race, and I realized how much stress--how much pressure--I've been putting on myself, and for what? So I can say I ran 13.1 miles? I stayed at the park for an hour before heading home, and I called my mom for advice. I asked her, "Mom, would you still love me if I didn't run a half marathon?" Of course I knew the answer to that question, but the very fact that I asked it told my mom I'd been taking all of this way too seriously, and she helped me to see that I've made this race into such a huge thing that it threatened to swallow me up. I have always tended toward perfectionism, toward striving for the absolute best, and yet this striving often made me miserable. In school all I cared about was making an A, but I was often stressed and unhappy and dissatisfied. And here I am in a similar situation: striving so badly for something that I think I want and just making myself miserable in the process.
It's silly and foolish, but the prideful part of me didn't want to have to tell people I didn't go through with the half marathon after I've spent so much time and energy writing about it and preparing for it. The prideful part of me also felt like I had to run this race so I wouldn't let people down, so I wouldn't disappoint those of you who read this blog and have been supporting me. Some of you may read this and think I am crazy for making this decision, and I am prepared for that. Or maybe some of you already thought I was crazy, to which I say, "Duh." :) At some point, though, I have to forget about what other people think. (How much easier my life would be if I could forget about what other people think!)
Ultimately, I decided not to run in the half marathon because I want a race like that to be done because I truly enjoy it, not because I feel like I have something to prove or some standard to live up to. The truth is, I enjoy shorter runs more than long ones, and that's okay. I have to realize that just because other people have run a marathon or half marathon doesn't mean I have to. It doesn't negate the other things I've accomplished.
I am healthy. I am happy. I am LOVED. That is more than enough.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Skinny=Happy?
I have said before that if I am expecting weight loss to make me deliriously happy, I am setting myself up for failure. Most days I am fully aware of and accept that fact, but some days I fall into the trap of thinking, "If I could just be a size 10 everything would be perfect." Of course that kind of thinking is a total lie because losing weight doesn't make all of life's problems go away, and yet how can we escape that kind of thinking when the world around us constantly lauds people for their beautiful physical appearance?
I have thought about this a lot recently as I have looked back to where I was before I started trying to lose weight last January. I have read many weight loss stories in which the people telling them say varying versions of "My life was miserable, I was miserable, and I just wanted to be thin!" They paint a picture of their "fat" life as being one of unhappiness and despair and their new "skinny" life as one of rainbows and sunshine. And while I definitely think that losing weight has made me feel more confident and happier to a certain extent, I also can't say that my "fat" life was one of misery and unhappiness. Yes, I had my difficulties, especially during grad school, but those difficulties weren't caused by my obesity; they were caused by my insecurities about my intelligence and personality. To look back on my life before I started losing weight and just see a miserable fat person is to see the past incorrectly. You see, while some things about my life have changed, like the fact that I now love cardio (who knew??) and eat better foods and focus more on my physical health, a lot of things about my life have not changed, like my faith in Jesus, my love for my husband, my relationships with dear friends, my love of books. Yes, losing weight has made it easier to find clothes and has allowed me to feel better about my outward appearance and I do get a little thrill when I see a lower number on the scale, but if I am neglecting my relationships or neglecting the cultivation of my inward appearance, what am I really gaining?
However, just because I know I am the same person now in a lot of ways doesn't mean I don't struggle with how I used to look then. The hardest thing is looking at pictures of my wedding. I see myself in those pictures and have thought more than once, "Why didn't I lose the weight then? Then I could be proud of how I look!" But then I stop myself because I realize that the person in those pictures is glowing with happiness, with love. The person in those pictures is thrilled to be marrying the love of her life. And that person is still here today. Sure, it would have been wonderful if I could have worn a size 10 or 12 wedding gown, but just because I didn't doesn't mean I should look on that day with regret. So I choose the alternative. I choose gratitude. I am grateful for the life I have lived, both past and present, for I know that all of it has made me who I am, and at the end of the day, the number on the scale or on the waistband of a pair of pants means little when compared to a life lived to the fullest.
I have thought about this a lot recently as I have looked back to where I was before I started trying to lose weight last January. I have read many weight loss stories in which the people telling them say varying versions of "My life was miserable, I was miserable, and I just wanted to be thin!" They paint a picture of their "fat" life as being one of unhappiness and despair and their new "skinny" life as one of rainbows and sunshine. And while I definitely think that losing weight has made me feel more confident and happier to a certain extent, I also can't say that my "fat" life was one of misery and unhappiness. Yes, I had my difficulties, especially during grad school, but those difficulties weren't caused by my obesity; they were caused by my insecurities about my intelligence and personality. To look back on my life before I started losing weight and just see a miserable fat person is to see the past incorrectly. You see, while some things about my life have changed, like the fact that I now love cardio (who knew??) and eat better foods and focus more on my physical health, a lot of things about my life have not changed, like my faith in Jesus, my love for my husband, my relationships with dear friends, my love of books. Yes, losing weight has made it easier to find clothes and has allowed me to feel better about my outward appearance and I do get a little thrill when I see a lower number on the scale, but if I am neglecting my relationships or neglecting the cultivation of my inward appearance, what am I really gaining?
However, just because I know I am the same person now in a lot of ways doesn't mean I don't struggle with how I used to look then. The hardest thing is looking at pictures of my wedding. I see myself in those pictures and have thought more than once, "Why didn't I lose the weight then? Then I could be proud of how I look!" But then I stop myself because I realize that the person in those pictures is glowing with happiness, with love. The person in those pictures is thrilled to be marrying the love of her life. And that person is still here today. Sure, it would have been wonderful if I could have worn a size 10 or 12 wedding gown, but just because I didn't doesn't mean I should look on that day with regret. So I choose the alternative. I choose gratitude. I am grateful for the life I have lived, both past and present, for I know that all of it has made me who I am, and at the end of the day, the number on the scale or on the waistband of a pair of pants means little when compared to a life lived to the fullest.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
The Right to Bare Arms, Part 2
I am proud to announce that on the very day I pledged to you (my readers who have come out of the bloggy woodwork) to wear a sleeveless shirt, I wore a sleeveless shirt! The husband and I went to see the Memphis Redbirds play, and as it was going to be in the 90s, I decided to go for it, since I preferred not to melt into a pool of sweat due to a shirt with sleeves. Turns out I melted into a pool of sweat anyway, but I like to think it would have been worse had I not gone sleeveless.
All in all, the experience was very positive! I confess that the decision to wear the sleeveless shirt was made easier by my hope that there would be few people at the game. After all, it was a game in the middle of the week, during work hours, so how many people would be there? Turns out there are a lot of crazy people who can think of nothing greater than sweating it out in a minor league ballpark in the middle of the afternoon, so there were plenty of people there! However, this caused me only about two seconds of alarm, and then I saw all the food options in front of my eyes and forgot all about it. KIDDING. (Well, sort of. I did partake of some ballpark goodies.) I had a few moments of obsessing over how my arms must look, but after my husband assured me no one was talking about my arms (at least not within hearing distance, anyway), I managed to relax and enjoy the experience. I'm even planning on wearing a sleeveless shirt again tomorrow, and I might just take pictures to document the occasion!
One thing that really helped me was the fabulous Jen's (aka Prior Fat Girl) comment on yesterday's post. She pointed out that no one cares whether I wear short sleeves or no sleeves! I can't remember what anyone I saw today was wearing, so that means it ultimately doesn't matter because no one cares. NO ONE CARES. I don't know about you all, but that's a very freeing thought. Especially for someone who is ALWAYS thinking about what other people think.
So great is my concern for what people think that I am paranoid about wearing the same article of clothing two weeks in a row. Obviously I have to wear the same pants because I do not, nor will I ever, own 14 pairs of pants, but every morning when I'm getting ready to teach I consciously go through my wardrobe and think through what I wore the previous week so I don't repeat an outfit. I just know that if I did, someone would point it out or judge me for it. (And I will never forget this one time in class when a student asked me if I liked purple because I wore it a lot, so students do notice these things!) Does anyone else do this? Am I completely alone in this practice? Please tell me I am crazy. (On second thought, tell me something I don't know!)
Now that I've conquered the bare arms, my next goal is to forget all about this insane practice of remembering everything I wear and when I wear it because honestly, no one cares! I don't think I'm going to go so far as to wear the same thing every day or anything like that, but I am going to stop obsessing about repeating outfits and just wear what I want to wear. What a thought! :)
Do you have some quirky practice or habit that you want to get rid of? Make a plan of action and start today!
All in all, the experience was very positive! I confess that the decision to wear the sleeveless shirt was made easier by my hope that there would be few people at the game. After all, it was a game in the middle of the week, during work hours, so how many people would be there? Turns out there are a lot of crazy people who can think of nothing greater than sweating it out in a minor league ballpark in the middle of the afternoon, so there were plenty of people there! However, this caused me only about two seconds of alarm, and then I saw all the food options in front of my eyes and forgot all about it. KIDDING. (Well, sort of. I did partake of some ballpark goodies.) I had a few moments of obsessing over how my arms must look, but after my husband assured me no one was talking about my arms (at least not within hearing distance, anyway), I managed to relax and enjoy the experience. I'm even planning on wearing a sleeveless shirt again tomorrow, and I might just take pictures to document the occasion!
One thing that really helped me was the fabulous Jen's (aka Prior Fat Girl) comment on yesterday's post. She pointed out that no one cares whether I wear short sleeves or no sleeves! I can't remember what anyone I saw today was wearing, so that means it ultimately doesn't matter because no one cares. NO ONE CARES. I don't know about you all, but that's a very freeing thought. Especially for someone who is ALWAYS thinking about what other people think.
So great is my concern for what people think that I am paranoid about wearing the same article of clothing two weeks in a row. Obviously I have to wear the same pants because I do not, nor will I ever, own 14 pairs of pants, but every morning when I'm getting ready to teach I consciously go through my wardrobe and think through what I wore the previous week so I don't repeat an outfit. I just know that if I did, someone would point it out or judge me for it. (And I will never forget this one time in class when a student asked me if I liked purple because I wore it a lot, so students do notice these things!) Does anyone else do this? Am I completely alone in this practice? Please tell me I am crazy. (On second thought, tell me something I don't know!)
Now that I've conquered the bare arms, my next goal is to forget all about this insane practice of remembering everything I wear and when I wear it because honestly, no one cares! I don't think I'm going to go so far as to wear the same thing every day or anything like that, but I am going to stop obsessing about repeating outfits and just wear what I want to wear. What a thought! :)
Do you have some quirky practice or habit that you want to get rid of? Make a plan of action and start today!
Sunday, May 21, 2006
Forget About It
I'm watching Lizzie McGuire on the Disney Channel (and no, I'm not ashamed to admit that I love it), and Lizzie's trying to be in a bunch of different clubs so she can have good yearbook pictures. I remember those days. I was always afraid of how I would look in my yearbook pictures, and I always spent a lot of time figuring out what outfit I would wear, how I would fix my hair, and just how big my smile would be. And for what? For some picture that's sitting in a yearbook that's sitting in my closet collecting dust. I wanted so much to capture the best part of me in that picture, so everyone could look at my picture and say, "Oh, there's Erin. She was so (fill in adjective of choice here)."
I'd like to say that I'm past that sort of vanity, but if I'm honest with myself, I'm not. I still care way too much about how I look and what people think about me. I still worry about people's impressions of me and whether or not I am measuring up to someone's expectations of me, and if I'm not, what I can do to change it. I still get worked up about my grades because I need something to feel good about, and even having a boyfriend doesn't make me believe that in the end I'm okay just the way I am, no matter how many times he's told me it's true. And you know what? All of this is really exhausting. It's emotionally draining, and it can make for a person who is not all that fun to be around. No one wants to be around someone who is so worried about what other people will think that she can't just relax and have fun and be herself. I don't want to be around that girl, and I don't want to be that girl. In the end, the change has to start with me. My friends and my boyfriend can tell me all day long that I'm wonderful, but until I realize it myself, it doesn't matter. But more importantly, I can tell myself all day long that I'm wonderful, but until I realize that whether or not I believe I'm wonderful is secondary to what I believe about God, it doesn't matter. C. S. Lewis said the measure of a humble person is the ability to forget about oneself altogether, and really, when we learn the secret of gazing into the face of God in worship, we won't be able to see ourselves at all. What's a better way for me to spend my time: thinking about myself or thinking about God? That one's sort of a no-brainer, don't you think?
I'd like to say that I'm past that sort of vanity, but if I'm honest with myself, I'm not. I still care way too much about how I look and what people think about me. I still worry about people's impressions of me and whether or not I am measuring up to someone's expectations of me, and if I'm not, what I can do to change it. I still get worked up about my grades because I need something to feel good about, and even having a boyfriend doesn't make me believe that in the end I'm okay just the way I am, no matter how many times he's told me it's true. And you know what? All of this is really exhausting. It's emotionally draining, and it can make for a person who is not all that fun to be around. No one wants to be around someone who is so worried about what other people will think that she can't just relax and have fun and be herself. I don't want to be around that girl, and I don't want to be that girl. In the end, the change has to start with me. My friends and my boyfriend can tell me all day long that I'm wonderful, but until I realize it myself, it doesn't matter. But more importantly, I can tell myself all day long that I'm wonderful, but until I realize that whether or not I believe I'm wonderful is secondary to what I believe about God, it doesn't matter. C. S. Lewis said the measure of a humble person is the ability to forget about oneself altogether, and really, when we learn the secret of gazing into the face of God in worship, we won't be able to see ourselves at all. What's a better way for me to spend my time: thinking about myself or thinking about God? That one's sort of a no-brainer, don't you think?
Wednesday, March 2, 2005
Third Time's the Charm
So this is my third post for the day, but you all know I have no life anyway. (That wasn't supposed to rhyme.) You know how earlier I was ranting about my job and how I said I would get over b/c I would get some perspective? Well, God gave me a heaping spoonful of perspective about five minutes after I got off work. One of my best friends called me, and she told me something that made me forget all about my petty "problems." Her parents are missionaries in Costa Rica, and last night her mom and her brother were hijacked in their car. The guys stole the car and her mom's purse, which had her money, credit cards, id, etc. And as if that weren't enough, today they called the house and told them they were coming back and that they knew she'd changed the locks on the house! So her parents and her brother are leaving the country for a few days to make sure they're safe. Isn't that scary? It made me ashamed of myself and my ingratitude, and I immediately asked God to forgive me for being such a wimp. It's so hard not to be self-absorbed! Or maybe it's only me who struggles with that...
"God forgive me for my sin. God remember where I am. I've fallen off the pedestal and landed upon the dirty floor, once more. Embrace me, come save me from the weakened state I'm in. Chase me, chase me down, and put me in Your arms again." --Maple Street, "Embrace Me"
"God forgive me for my sin. God remember where I am. I've fallen off the pedestal and landed upon the dirty floor, once more. Embrace me, come save me from the weakened state I'm in. Chase me, chase me down, and put me in Your arms again." --Maple Street, "Embrace Me"
Wednesday, February 23, 2005
Joy Comes in the Morning
Well, I'm feeling much happier today now that I've got some perspective. So I am not going to Baylor (unless $25,000 falls in my lap). I know that just means God has something better planned, and that's exciting. I'll post more later. Just wanted to thank those of you who cheered me up.
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