I Think Starting Over Might Be Harder Than Starting

The truth is I'm afraid. Very afraid. I don't want to stand on a scale in front of someone and have them write down a number that is higher than I have ever seen in my life. It doesn't matter that it will be a new center. It doesn't matter that it will be a new book. It doesn't matter that they will have no idea that I tried (sort-of) and failed just a few short months ago. It doesn't matter that most people try and fail once, twice, three times or more. I just don't want to have to do it.

On the other hand, I was really happy today. I went through all of my daily activities thinking, "this is the last time that I will ever be this fat." I managed to feel virtuous while consuming a cheese steak, fries, regular coke, and a brownie for lunch by thinking about all of the good things I will be doing for my body starting at midnight and for every day thereafter. Along with the cheese steak and joy there was relief. I will never again hear the horrible voice telling me to take the table in the back corner because I need to hide because someone who looks like me should never been seen eating in public and certainly not scarfing cheese steaks and brownies.

Honestly, it has been an odd couple of months. In some ways I've embraced myself - eating what I want and doing what I want. In other ways I've looked at myself and wondered how I let myself get this way, why I let myself stay this way, and how much better life would be if I didn't have to lug all of me around. I read a post somewhere while I was blog surfing last fall that talked about disappearing weight loss bloggers. Everyone starts out enthusiastic, with grandiose plans. The posts are frequent and hopeful. Then a little negativity sets in. Motivation slides. Posts become fewer and fewer in number. And then they dry up altogether. Looks like another failed attempt at weight loss has hit. I didn't want to be that girl. And if failure reared its ugly head I wanted to write through the challenges and come out on the other side. But I couldn't. I haven't yet figured out how to type while holding onto a chocolate chip cookie in one hand and a carton of McDonald's fries in the others.

I feel calm now, ready to put down the cookies and fries. I think that I've eaten more in the past three months than in the last three years. It doesn't help. It just leaves me more stressed and tired and icky than ever. I felt good during the few short weeks I actually worked the plan. I'm going back.