Saturday, April 10, 2010

again.

Hi there.

Sorry to disappear on you for...a year? My bad.

So last year, I was clicking along nicely on WeightWatchers, breaking a sweat and feeling pretty good. Then I stopped losing at as rapid a pace, started feeling quite angsty about my job, and went on a vacation that was all-expenses paid, and that meant a lot of eating.

I didn't recover.

Today I got up with my boyfriend, got dressed, and went to the gym. Gary goes to the gym every Saturday morning. I usually use that time to go browse through book shops, knitting stores, coffee with friends. Me time.

I've been trying to get going now for about 3 months. I've gained back all the weight I lost last year - almost 20 lbs, and pathetically, cliche-style: and then some.

I looked at myself in the mirror a few days ago and didn't recognize my body shape. I've gained weight in my thighs and hips, as always, but also in my face, my back, and my stomach.

I looked at my naked body. I didn't feel anything, really. I didn't want to cry, or run, or start eating nothing but greens and steamed fish. I actually felt a general sense of apathy. Nothing. Zip.

And I realize now that what I was feeling wasn't acceptance. It's not hatred, it's frustration. If I resigned myself to doing nothing, a year from now I'll have gained another 20 lbs. And then another. And another, until I'm so far down that spiral that recovering will seem absolutely impossible.

So I guess this means back on the wagon for me.

I just wish it was easier. That I hadn't gotten back to this point. That I had, just once, told myself it would be worth it in the long run to skip the poutine and maybe go for a walk to deal with the stress, instead of landing face first in a giant full-fat latte with whip cream.

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