I set myself unreasonable goals. I have a pair of jeans that I adore. I wore them before I had babies and I want to wear them again.
Every time I shed a couple of pounds, I rip them out of my wardrobe and try them on. When I can’t get them over my thighs I am crushed.
Yes, I know my body parts have shifted around and settled in new and interesting places since giving birth. Yes, I know it’s going to take time to get back to anything near my former glory days. And yes, I know I am being too hard on myself.
But still, I do it every time and every time I throw them with great force back into the back of the wardrobe muttering ‘what’s the bloody point’ to myself.
I lose heart quickly. This is linked to number 1. If I don’t lose 2lb every week without fail I think there’s something wrong with me. My heart sinks, my will to carry on sinks and I end up thinking I may as well just eat that whole packet of Jammy Dodgers for all the good this dieting lark is doing me.
I get disappointed with myself and give up. I feel like the only way I’m going to ever have significant weight loss is by being involved in some kind of chainsaw accident.
Any weight loss I do achieve I feel the need to ‘reward’ myself. I wrote this down and thought ‘you silly bloody sod’. In work I march on through until the job is done. I am a completer finisher. I am not happy until the end result is achieved.
So why the hell can’t I apply that to me?
I don’t love my body. Never have. This is a big downfall for me. Even in my prime (and I didn’t appreciate that I was in my prime until I passed my prime and started looking back and regretting that I didn’t enjoy my prime!) I didn’t like the way I looked – all big boobed and curvy.
And what worries me the most is, is this also another prime moment and will I be looking back in years to come thinking ‘I wish I looked like that now’. Hells bells, I cannot let that happen.
I know part of the process for change is accepting who you are right now, but what if you’re super critical and can’t find anything you like about yourself?
I know this sounds really really bad, but I’ll bet you there are many many people out there thinking ‘actually, that’s me. I’m the same’. Whether you’re fat, skinny, curvy, athletic or pretty much perfect, I’ll guarantee there are people who absolutely hate something about their look.
- I’m impatient. I want weight loss and I want it right now.
I bury my head in the sand. If I have a disastrous day (no exercise, sat on my ass in front of the computer and devoured the contents of the fridge/cupboards/emergency stash in the car) I throw in the towel and say to myself ‘well there’s no point carrying on this week. I’ll start again on Monday/on the 1st of the month/when the sun starts shining.
I have every excuse for why I can’t do it NOW.
Also I know I have to lose weight for health reasons (I have a history of angina in the family) but I’ll almost pretend like it’s not one of the most important things to me and do the equivalent of putting my fingers in my ears and going ‘la la la la la’.
I cannot seem to switch off my appetite. Does that make me greedy?
Sure I love food. I love good food. I’ll also eat crap because it’s there in front of me.
I’ve been to parties where I’ve eaten beforehand and am stuffed, but I’ll still go in picking away at the buffet. Oh, who am I kidding, I stand in line with a plate in my hand and I indulge.
Usually when I’m eating I don’t actually WANT it. Clearly I NEED it. For something other than satisfying my appetite.
I think I am what is known as an emotional eater. You know those people who just can’t eat when they’re upset or stressed or emotional? They just can’t stomach food? I am not one of those people.
I make excuses
I haven’t had anything sweet all week/day/hour.
I can’t see good food go to waste.
I hardly ate anything yesterday.
I can’t just have a cup of tea.
The packet’s open so we may as well finish them off.
Just the one then . . .
I blame everyone but myself My children are to blame as they made me carry them around inside me for months, increasing my appetite, making me breastfeed, making me crave jam donuts then being so adorable I couldn’t bear to go back to the gym once they were in my life.
My husband is to blame as he is always offering me ice cream, a biscuit or 5, a bag of popcorn.
My job was to blame because I was always so busy I had to eat on the run and then when the hunger pangs kicked in at around 3pm I had to visit the chocolate machine.
My family is to blame because they gave me defective genes.
My taste buds are to blame because they went down the sweet route and made me desire anything and everything that’s been within breathing distance of sugar. Except Turkish Delight. If you told me I had to live off Turkish Delight, I’d be 10lb lighter in days.
I call it dieting. It’s like a food list – once you write if all down it comes as a bit of a shock just how much you are actually eating.
I am not dieting, I am changing my life. For the better.
Do any of those ring true with you?
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