Wednesday, January 7, 2015

I get so emotional, baby

Today I met with one of my "health coaches" to check in at the gym. This is just someone that is a part of my cheerleading team, like the bf, or my trainer in this journey to get back to a place where I am happy.

I got weighed and lost a few more pounds since our last weigh in. This is a huge victory considering I've been drinking my normal amount, the holidays came and went and I had my own little treats and indulgences here and there. I also felt like a salt lick a few days here and there, but a small loss is a big win for me.

Per usual, I can't be 100% happy. I don't trust it. I don't trust it's working, even though I am seeing results. My scale at home does not match the scale at the gym. When I'm naked and standing on it in the morning, it is not the same as the number in the gym. It's heavier by at least 1.5lbs. Is this some mean way the universe is playing with me?

I started to get emotional in that little cramped room on the second floor of the gym. I could hear the instructor teaching Zumba a few doors down and the thumping of bad pop music through the walls made me feel like a bad after school special. Jenny, Eat Something, or Billy, Don't Tell seems to be the way my story is playing out. My movie title could be Jessica, Love Yourself. I know I'm hard on myself. I get it. I know I gotta stop comparing myself to the me from 3 years ago. I am a different person. I am in a different time, and many different things have happened to me along the way. There is no way, physically or mentally, I can be the girl in this picture again.

I need to come to terms with the fact that it's OK. I can be better. I can be different. I can be bigger, I can be smaller. And it's fine. I like my hair better now anyway. I can be buff, beautiful and bitchin' another way, another day.

We talked about goals, and what my motivations were on this journey. I had actually been thinking about that this weekend. Why am I doing this? Why am I pushing so hard? Why am I up at the crack of dawn 6 days a week to get my ass to the gym? It's like I'm protecting myself from something. I'm trying to build a wall around some unforeseeable next catastrophe or accident or injury that I am sure is coming my way. I'm walking around waiting for the other shoe to drop on me, which I know is ridiculous. I'm building strength and endurance to endure whatever life is going to throw at me.

The stronger I am, the more lung capacity I have, the better I can protect, recover and repair myself. This is my thinking. I'm also thinking down the road when I'm an old lady and I want to be able to carry my groceries, run 5ks in a tutu and be able to lift gallons of milk over my head like a granny She-Hulk. Only I won't be a grandma, I'll just be a buff lil old lady who can take care of herself. That's my ultimate goal I guess. It's neither good or bad, it just is what it is.

I had to stop myself from crying a bit today. Coming to terms with things on this "weight loss journey" is part of the process. Finding out what got me here, what makes me stay here and where I want to be after is all part of the plan. Sometime it's not so pleasant or warm and fuzzy and wrapped in loud yoga pants. It's red faced, blotchy, hive-y and tearful. And tiresome. I am so very tired, but I will keep pushing.

11.6 pounds lost since November 5th. 6% body fat gone. Let's see what the next few months bring.

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