So I woke up this morning and realised with mounting dread in the pit of my stomach that I had gotten fat.
Well, not actually, literally overnight. But I had definitely crossed the line from curvy to fat overnight. Yesterday I was cool. Curvy but cool. Today, I am suddenly fat, and filled with disappointment and self doubt. Plus nothing fits. My comfy, happy pants are feeling more like leggings, which actually doesn’t make me feel very happy when it comes down to it.
It’s true when they say it’s easier to get the weight off than it is to keep it off. I didn’t believe it, but now that I’m back at the other end of the pendulum (that’d be the heavy end), I know it’s true. I suppose it’s because you start the initial journey to weight loss and ‘perfection’ with such dedication and motivation. It’s the only goal in sight and you become tunnel-visioned about it all. You refuse even a sniff of chocolate or a dash of red when you’re on The Mission. But once you arrive? Suddenly everything is allowable again – you take to it with incredible enthusiasm (making up for lost time, so to speak), and because you’re a skinny chick you can get away with it. You think.
Although, if I’m being honest, I still never felt like a skinny chick on the inside, even when I was at my ‘perfect weight’. I felt like an imposter, a fraud. I would still grab a size 16 off the shelf, or insist to the shop assistant that I was definitely an ‘L’. Even if I ventured slightly south, choosing an ‘M’, it was with a deep sense of trepidation, waiting for the moment I would be busted by the shop assistant who knew (and could clearly see) what size I really was. I mean, was I delusional, for goodness sake?). I felt sure that sooner or later people would figure out that I was really just a fat girl in a skinny suit.
However that worked.
But after this morning’s wake-up call (and lack of clothing options), I’ve decided enough is enough. It’s time to get serious and make this happen.
So I’ve decided to blog about my journey back (again) to skinny because 1. if it’s not on the internet, it didn’t really happen; and 2. maybe public accountability will be the motivation I need to keep on track. (There’s a bonus 3., which is, if I’m blogging, maybe I won’t be stuffing my face full of food).
It’s hard. I mean, food is so good and I feel like I’m always hungry. Maybe that’s because I’m not getting enough sleep, or my hormones are mucking up. Maybe I have Syndrome X and that’s the reason for my fatness. I honestly doubt it has anything to do with the occasional glass or four of red every night, or the fresh side of pane de casa loaf (with butter) to round off dinner.
I’m being cynical.
Of course it has everything to do with the red, and the bread, and the granola brekky cereal and the chocolate…….
But enough is enough. I’d rather be a skinny girl on the outside feeling like a fat girl on the inside, than a fat girl on the outside thinking I’m a skinny chick, and who dies of shock every time I catch my reflection in a shop window.
So I’m going to say the number now. My starting number. I’m embarrassed about it. I keep trying to tell myself it’s not that bad. But really, I know it is. And I just don’t feel good at this number. And look, I’m going to be honest when I say I know that skinny isn’t everything. I use the word skinny ‘tongue-in-cheek’ somewhat, but what I really mean is ‘the right weight for me’. Everyone knows what that is, for themselves. This blog isn’t about me encouraging extremes in dieting, negative body image, or fat-shaming.
I’m just putting my journey back to good health, and the right weight, for me, out there in the public forum. Feel free to offer advice, tips, support and motivation. I’ve done it once before, and I know I can do it again.
I know you all just skipped that last bit because you really just want to know the awful, hideous truth. You want The Number. (Can I just say at this point, my period is due any day now. I’ve heard you can weigh as much as 2.5 kilos heavier in the lead up to that glorious event. I’m just sayin’).
SEVENTY SIX POINT FIVE.
I can’t believe I just typed that. Even I thought it must be a typo.
That’s a BMI of 27. Officially overweight. (Incidentally, I love how those BMI calculators are set up with the height and kilos already keyed in to the perfect height/weight ratio – like, is that to make you feel worse before you even know your results??)
It’s bad. That’s a whole lotta chocolate and red wine, right there. My husband tells me he loves big butts and he cannot lie, but I think even he would draw a line in the sand at this point.
I’ve come to the realisation there’s no point whinging about it. I got myself into this mess and it’s up to me to get myself out of it. Again. One lousy kilo at a time.
So, I’m gonna say another number. This is my goal number, my happy spot, my skinny chick ID.
Using my nifty little iPhone calculator, that requires a loss of 12.5 kilos. Unfortunately, that’s probably not do-able by the height of the Australian summer but I could be half way there by Christmas. Which is better than nothing. My mother, bless her heart, says she can’t actually notice the weight gain but unfortunately I can and summer temperatures (think sweaty ribcage and thigh chaff) will only be confirmation of the fact.
So here goes. Today really is the first day of the rest of my life. Today is the day I start the long, sweaty, difficult journey back down the scale to where I know I am supposed to be. And this time round, I’ll be prepared to stay there. Wish me luck!
ps: I’m not sure exactly how the picture attached to this post is supposed to be motivational. But it seemed appropriate given that, along with numerous other ‘buddies’, it helped get me into this rather hefty spot. I don’t suppose this could be my weekly reward for good behaviour?….. No? I didn’t think so.
pps: There is, of course, the more noble motivation of being a healthier, more energetic mum and a good role model in terms of health for my kids. But let’s keep it real. At this point, I just want a few more clothing options and less fat rolls around my middle.