This dynamic right there characterizes my struggle to a T, and is what this blog will be about, at least to start.
I've been working towards losing weight, getting in shape, and all that jazz. If we were to be honest, I've been wanting it, dreaming of it, scheming for it, but taking completely ineffective approaches since early high school. I graduated from a small home town weighing in right around 190 lbs. To get an idea of my frame, I'd describe myself as short. Not petite. Petite brings to mind words like Waif-like and delicate. I can only laugh at that. I'm short but a "stacked" version of 5'4 (according to my hilarious male comrades). I grew up working outdoors, playing soccer, camping, biking, and swimming every chance I got - but with a sad emotionally dependent/abusive relationship with FOOD. I would sneak it, hide it, eat three helpings of everything, and crave every hour or so. Note - I said "crave", not "be hungry". The difference only took years to learn.
Then in college, I gained the freshmen 30 (I had to out-do the average, naturally) and topped over 225. I came across a picture of myself from those days and the similarities are striking between me and the StayPuft Marshmallow man from the Ghostbusters movie. That was my heaviest, and ironically, the time I totally came out of my shell. I had a body and a mindset/attitude that didn't match!
Thus started my yo-yo progress. My last year of college, I lost 25 - gained 15. Then about 4 years ago, I got engaged and lost 40, but gained 20 back after the wedding. It was only in the last 2 years that Shit Got Real shall we say, and I actually dropped 50-60 lbs (thank you relationship drama). In the latest round I've already gained about 10 back. I know it's downwards progress but still the idea that I can't seem to maintain is scary.
I have a suspicion that under neath the flub there's a strong, seriously curvy frame, if I were to judge by where the weight sits on me. Do you know, I believe that was a huge part of what caused me to be able to break through and finally lose some serious weight? I believed it was possible. That I wasn't simply meant to be fat. That I was strong enough, tough enough to do some of the serious workouts and live and not faceplant every time I did a push-up or collapse a lung doing a simple 5K jog.
So here I sit, forming up a strong resolution to reach this last 25. I've come so far. I've accomplished so much, battled and fought, through sweat, blood, tears, and a lot of salad. You would think that after passing a half-way point, you'd hit a "downhill" stride. What? Look how hard you worked to get that first half done. You don't have as far to go now! Shouldn't the rest of it, the little that's left, be easier?
Ha.
I'm closer to my goal than I've ever been. I can see it. I can fucking taste it - I really believe that I am capable of doing it! And yet I think it's going to take more work to drop this last 25 than it did to drop the first 50. There is no downhill momentum. This here is Sympathy for Sisyphus. This is one of those "we walked up hill both ways" journeys that you're always hearing some elderly relative ramble on about when complaining how easy today's youth has it.
I'm going to try though. Fuck it, no I'm going to do it. I am! Really. I mean it.
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