The Facts

I stared at my vitals from the doctor's visit yesterday. My BP was high. My weight had just tipped into the top of the obese BMI range (granted, it was with clothes, but still). It made me sad. I reached for a box of caramel chocolate peanut fudge and took another spoonful. When I'd eaten so much I felt sick because of its sweetness, I tried an old trick. I nuked a slice of vegan cheese on a piece of bread, sprinkled it with salt, then enjoyed the diversion in taste so I could eat a couple more spoonfuls of fudge.

Chew and repeat.

I tried so hard today. I had a green smoothie for breakfast: 370 calories. I had a haystack lunch but piled it high with veggies. Maybe 600 calories? I had a cup of lentils, some whole wheat linguine, and two rye crackers with hummus and cucumbers and green olives for supper. I had cherries for a snack. And then it was 10:30 at night, I was hungry because lentils and linguine don't stay long in my stomach, and I'd just finished cooking up a huge pot of delicious Thai yellow curry for lunch the next day. I had a spoonful and then I sat down to log into my health record. That's when I reached for the fudge.

There are days I feel triumphant that I've managed to eat healthy all day. Then there are days I feel frustrated because I don't know how to eat healthy, I'm tired of chewing carrots, I want a slice of bread and I don't want to give up wheat, and the thought of walking a mile sounds like the worst idea of the month. I seem to have 98% bad days and 2% good days. I wonder why I keep trying? It would be easier to give up and just eat what I'd like to eat. Sometimes I wonder, if I did that, would the weight magically melt away? Would it be like those stories of single women who stop searching for a guy and only then does the perfect guy appear?

I've tried it before, though, and I only ended up putting on more weight. I blame my metabolism and I do have a medical reason to do so. At the same time, I know the numbers and they're adding up. I don't keep my daily limit to 1500 calories. I don't exercise to boost my metabolism. I go to bed late and sleep in or I'm lacking in sleep. There are many ways I still need to improve so yes, the numbers on the scale are accurate.

I want to be comfortable in my skin and in the clothes I wear. I don't want to buy size 16 skirts or XL tops. I don't want to worry that people will think I'm pregnant because I carry most of my weight in my belly. I'm embarrassed that I won't look beautiful for my best friend's wedding in just 5 weeks. I struggle because the emotions I feel drive me to food which caused these problems in the first place.

I don't want to wake up with diabetes, worry about having a heart attack, or maintain my high blood pressure. I want to live a healthy full life where I can hike a hill without running out of breath. This will require even more self-control than I have now.

As I reflect on where I've been, binging and hoarding food regularly, eating 8 slices of bread for supper because I could, stuffing my stomach so full it ached when I stopped, I see I've come far. I still have a path to traverse but I'm thankful I'm not just beginning the journey.

I may never look like a super model, but I want to be comfortable with who I am. I want to be able to accept myself instead of live in judgement. And that, perhaps, is the hardest lesson of all to learn.