I don’t know what to write about where my health and fitness (read: chub and food issues) are concerned. That’s a lie. I do know, otherwise, this blog post would have ended in sentence 3. I’m knee deep in the hoopla of the Move More, Eat Well Jumpstart, and I’m doing really well. I’m working through the daily challenges. I’m eating good food. I’m exercising. I’m dealing with a whole new flare up of of plantar fasciitis. I’m taking it all in stride, so to speak.
And I guess I just feel fine.
I don’t feel like I’m going to conquer the world and end every issue I’ve ever had with weight and food and self-image just because I’m having a few good weeks. I’m not dropping Biggest Loser-style poundage just yet. I’m not over the hump of craving salt and vinegar potato chips and Sprite. My class isn’t a golden ticket to perfection. It just lets you do what I’m doing right now: take stock, look at what needs to happen and try to understand what it all means.
In that framework, I feel better than fine. I feel strong but I also feel patient. I am looking to string a larger percentage of days together wherein I treat my body like I really do love it. Those days aren’t about starving it, or overworking it, or fooling it. Those days are about knowing that I am, in fact, moving a little more and eating a little better. I feel like if I just up those daily percentages, I’ll be feeling a whole new level of fine over the next 12 months.
I wish this were easy and automatic but right now, in my life, it’s not. And that’s okay. That’s not an excuse to throw in the towel. It just takes a lot of my focus and conscious effort.
Add to that life, work, relationships, stress, how we handle frustration and pain, and you have a complicated brew to navigate.
The challenges of taking care of oneself aren’t strictly the domain of the more ample bootied either. Skinny girls, middle of the scale girls—they face challenges, too. Some of them might have a faster metabolism than me, but I don’t own the market on challenges and self-care. Sometimes I forget that. Today, and most days, I remember it.
Back in 2010, I lost 40 pounds in 10 months. If you followed along you were one of three things: 1) Impressed and inspired, 2) Annoyed by it all or 3) You stopped reading my blog because that storyline didn’t speak to you. I’ll tell you what I was: black and white.
I watched that black and whiteness fall apart over the next three years. None of it was accidental. All of it was pretty conscious. I said to myself, “I don’t care. I’m eating this shit.” I said to myself, “Work trumps the treadmill.” I asked myself, “What the hell are you doing?” And the answer was always the same, “Acting like I don’t care.”
I’ve told you what my therapist has told me, right? That I choose to be a mess in this area. That I love to have problems because it makes me feel more like myself. I’m still not 100 percent in on that one. But it floats around my mind on a pretty regular basis.
Right now I’m choosing to be conscious and to do my best. To shoot for a better percentage. To string together a handful of days where I show my body some lovin’.
So far, so good.
This post is sponsored by my bodacious booty, of which, I’m working to slowly and carefully reduce its size. You have until the 31st to join me in the Move More, Eat Well live classroom experience. You don’t have to play catch up. You just start where you are and work through your 31 days. I can’t tell you where you’ll end up, but hopefully, you’ll emerge connected to what is needed for you. To register or learn more, click here.