Those who have been reading for some time now (not that I've had anything much to say lately) will know that a few years back I lost about 65 lbs
on the Weight Watchers program. At the time, it felt right for me, as I was in a very low place, self-image wise.
To keep a long story short, I eventually quit. Aside from rampant corporatism that left a bitter taste in my mouth, I also grew irritated with the constant measuring, portioning, counting points and so forth. When I found myself in Canadian Tire contemplating the purchase of a kitchen scale so I could measure my portions to the very gram, I took pause.
"Holy Shit! This is ridiculous," I thought to myself and decided from there on, I would make a contining effort to make sure I included enough nutritious food in my day-to-day (which I do, most of the time) and I would remain active (which I have) but this counting calories-points-whathaveyou was a large steaming piling of bullshit that I would no longer have any part of.
I began reading up on Health At Every Size
and fat activism
and decided I was going to do what I could to love my body, regardless of what shape it decides to be. As long as I was feeling good, feeling healthy then that would be it and I was NOT going to let a number on a scale or in my pants tell me different.
Why, because life is too fucking short to spend every minute of the day obsessing over every tiny tidbit that goes into my mouth and going "Oh dear, have I gone over my Points? Fail, Fail, Fail." and generally beating myself up when the scale doesn't show me what I want it to. That's disordered thinking, folks. Psychological health is important as well as physical health and preoccupation with food and weight is damaging.
Here's the problem:
I've since, in the last three years, gained back about 25 lbs as one is wont to do when they spend a number of years fastidiously restricting their food intake and that is fucking with my head a bit. I'm trying really, really hard not to get all down on myself for this and keeping perspective. I still eat pretty well.. much, much better than I used to. I still Kick box, take walks weather permitting and this past summer The Well Travelled One and I went on a bunch of 2 and 3 hour hikes and plan to do more this summer.
But my pants don't fit. And that sucks. Because I'm cheap. Instead of being reasonable and logical and maybe buying some new fucking pants that fit, little stupid jerkbrain starts telling me that I'm gross and sloppy and look packed in and if I just lost 10 lbs or 20 I'd look soooo much better. and I feel bad about myself.
I shouldn't. But I do.
32 years of societal programming is hard to undo, y'all.