I don’t understand why I ‘fall off’ the proverbial wagon, and have done so before, allowing my internal ‘fuckits’ to take over- you now, as in: ‘oh, fuck it, one slice of pizza will be fine.’ Well, it’s not. I currently weigh (as of today’s weigh-in) 231.8 pounds. And I am 5’6” tall. There, now the world knows. It’s just a number. But. But. But. That number makes my face fuller in pictures, it makes my knees crunch when going up stairs, it makes Malka squish my legs and laugh. All innocently, but it secretly stings a little inside.
I don’t like my body as it. I don’t want to “accept my fat,” because it’s not healthy for my body. Some people, it may be healthy for them, and “fat acceptance” may be fine for them, so I’m not denying anyone the right to love themselves as they are. We should all be so lucky. I sure could work on accepting myself as I am while on this journey. But I still have to lose weight.
And the ONLY way for me to do so is to track my food, move more, and not just blindly stuff my face when i feel like it.
A little tough love with myself.
Until it becomes a habit.