
So I think I should start this post with a bit of a disclaimer: We're gonna get deep folks. I'm going to talk about my weight and body image and girlie parts and all of that stuff. I'm also going to share some quite personal information. (Gasp!) So if you're uncomfortable with those topics, best to just skip this one out. Mmmmmmk?
Where should I begin?
It's probably not a secret to anyone who knows me that I struggle with body image. Don't most females? Most women in my life do. Even so, I hesitate to write about the topic of body image and weight because it seems so narcissistic. Although I may feel like I "hate" my body at times, isn't that all in the name of vanity? I mean, to obsess over your body when there are so many other worries in the world, seems so self absorbed.
So with that said, why why why do I obsess over my body? I don't have an answer.
For the past two years I have been going on and off of the
South Beach Diet. When I started, I weighed 130 lbs. I immediately lost 10 lbs in the first two weeks of the diet. But the best part was that I really felt healthy, and after the first two weeks I didn't feel deprived of food. I've always been better at diets that cut out
types of food rather than diets that focus on portions. This preference is probably because I LOVE FOOD. And I love to eat food until I'm full. No disrespect to portioning food (believe me, I think most restaurants need a lesson in portioning) but those diets aren't for me. At my best, I was weighing something like 115 after about 6 months of South Beach.
So let's get to the reason for
this post. Today. Now.
I put on some weight over the winter- nothing new or unexpected- but I've had a bit of trouble losing it this time (even with South Beach). I was running, dieting and practically killing myself obsessing about everything I put in my body, but the weight just wouldn't budge. Not one pound. So I figured, why am I making myself completely unhappy over this. I turned thirty this year, perhaps my body is just changing and I should learn to be O.K. with where I am (and more importantly,
who I am). After all, it is just a number and my 140 lbs means nothing in the scheme of the universe when there is REAL suffering all over this planet. Plus, 140 isn't so bad, is it? So
just when I decided to learn to love me no matter my weight; after being on South Beach for a couple of years and feeling really good about my body, my attitude towards food and my body image in general- I've been violently hurdled back into an oblivion of self-hate. Why? My Doctor.
I had a Doctor's appointment last week and when I stepped on the scale, I knew what to expect. I didn't even bat a lash. I was O.K. with it. Like I said, 140 isn't so bad, is it?
Wrong.
During my appointment, my doctor suggested that I lose 20 lbs or more. TWENTY POUNDS! Twenty pounds. That's a lot to stomach.... or.. er... un-stomach. That's heavy stuff. (Pun intended.) So I've been depressed all week, feeling defeated. I can't help but think about all of the things that weigh 20 lbs. A tire. Two cats. Eighty sticks of butter. A small child. A car battery. I dunno... a lot of stuff. That's heavy!