This week I've seen no progress again, telling the truth there's been negative progress. Every time I step on the scales in a morning I dread seeing the numbers. I am exactly where I promised myself I wouldn't get back to.
I've slipped back into a terrible routine with food. I started sneaking snacks, eating more chocolate than I should and eating far too much food. It is all entirely my own fault.
I am the one in control.
I am the one who cooks the meals.
I am the one who dishes up the meals.
And yet I give myself too much food, eat it, and then complain about being overweight. It doesn't make any sense.
But it does.
I am the problem.
When it's not meal times I'm determined to behave myself. When I don't have to get up to go for a walk I think I need to exercise more. When the kids are at school I vow that I'll try harder to be more organised.
Time ticks on and another side of me takes control.
It's meal time and I'm hungry, I pile the food on my plate and scoff the lot. The sun is shining, there's spare time, but I can't make myself go for that walk. The kids arrive home and I'm so shattered that I just want to sit, sit and do nothing.
There are two sides of me that are fighting.
It's easy to think I should try harder when I don't have to fight, when I don't have to put effort in.
The problems arise when I do have to put effort in.
Imagine two me's
Me #1 is morbidly overweight and likes it. She loves to munch on Maccy D's, Burger King, Pizza Hut, and doesn't care that it's bad for her. She hates exercise, thinks yoga is for chumps, and her scales are gathering dust in the corner of the bathroom. She has convinced herself that she's happy because she gets to eat lots of nice food.
Me #2 is a healthy weight, I'm not talking super model, I'm talking a size 12/14. She exercises occasionally, likes yoga (the kind that pushes her, not the kind that is easy), and doesn't mind going for walks. She knows she shouldn't eat too much fast food, she restricts her chocolate, but she does allow herself to have the nice stuff sometimes.
I know which me I want to be but getting there is proving a lot harder than I thought it would.
When I lost all my weight last year I got complacent. I was smug, and big-headed, and looking back I'm slightly ashamed of myself. The thing is I was walking 2 miles EVERY DAY, I was doing yoga regularly, I was restricting my food. I put effort in. It took a lot out of me but I was happy.
I am not happy now.
I feel fat. I feel tired. I feel lazy.
I don't want to be these things anymore. I don't want to hate what I see when I look in the mirror.
I DO want to be able to fit into my jeans. I DO want to be able to look at myself in the mirror.
I've said it hundreds of times, but it's time to do something. It is time to cut out the crap. It is time to put in the effort.
The only way I am going to be happy is if I do it. I know this.
The fighting will continue, of that there's no doubt. But I'm hoping that the Me #2 is going to start winning the battles at least some of the time.
Wish me luck.
Linking to WednesdayBlogHop
Linking to WednesdayBlogHop