Beginning Again

Sigh. I feel a bit like a dog who has been caught digging in the trash. It is with my tail between my legs that I write this, knowing that I fully believed the last time I started this journey would be my last first. Well, here I am...back at square one yet again. I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel a little beaten down by the process of change. I know it's supposed to be hard. I know if it was easy everyone would do it. But damn. Changing 32 years of eating habits and non existent excercise routines is just plain brutal.  

In January, after falling off the paleo/primal/excercise wagon I jumped onto in October, I looked at the vast expanse of the year and charted my path.  I was brightly optimistic about how little I would have to lose each month to reach the 50 pound weight loss goal I set before our Disney/HP World trip in December.  I was so optimistic that I let the time just tick away. Every month I said to myself "ok, this is it. I have to do something. I still have plenty of time." I would recalculate my monthly weight loss goal and vow to get started.  "Plenty of time" turned into "holy crap, I have no time left." 

This is getting really old. 

So, enough is enough.  I can no longer pretend that I am "fat and happy." It's actually a ludicrous, embarassing thought when I write it out like that.  I can no longer allow myself to eat my feelings or comfort myself with food that does my body so much damage.  Whats that thing they say about the definition of insanity? I don't  want to be insane. And I cant continue to pretend that I have "plenty of time."

I am 32 years old. I take Ibuprofen almost daily for the groaning aches and pains in my knees, hips, and back.  I have to buy shirts that are long enough to cover my overhanging belly and hide my arm fat.  I don't even remember a time when I weighed less than 250 pounds.  I physically cannot crawl around on the floor with my baby even though it brings her unquantified joy. I cringe at the idea of joining my kids on a trampoline or in an inflatable bounce house.  I am dreading getting on that airplane or trying to squeeze into roller coaster seats designed for normal sized people. Most of all, I fear entering middle age with a 150 pound monkey on my back. This is real. This is my reality. This is what must change.

If I sound harsh, well maybe thats because I have vowed to lay my shit bare here.  I am fed up with my excuses.  These are the things we don't say out loud.  We're supposed to love ourselves and have confidence in our value as people.  Well I do love myself. Maybe that is what has actually changed while I was toiling away with monthly goals, measurements, and time clocked at the gym.  Maybe I finally love myself enough to face my reality. I am a strong, powerful force to be reckoned with. I have birthed 2 strong, powerful children. I have weathered storms that should have wiped me out and pushed me into the mud. I refuse to let this beast take me down. I don't have plenty of time left. I only have now.