We've made it to Friday afternoon, blog friends! I must be some sort of masochist, but first thing this morning I stepped onto the old scale in my bathroom. I wish I knew what possessed me to do such a thing on a Friday morning, but alas I found myself staring back at a number I haven't seen in years. Literally. Who knows if it's correct or what will be on official weigh day (Tuesday), but needless to stay, seeing that glorious number put some serious pep in my step today.
I feel compelled to get sort of PSA on you for a moment. Last night when I was writing (once again) about my weight I started to worry (yet again) that all of this was sending the wrong message - that my weight defines me in some way. It's not the number. For me, it's what the number represents; health, priorities, etc. When I stop taking care of myself and emotional eat to the high heavens I weigh more. I know you're probably shocked, but that's how this whole health thing works. This is all about changing my self-sabotaging ways - letting myself succeed. Getting out of my own way. You know what I mean.
The number is directly correlated with my behavior. I don't care about being "petite" and 95lbs like my sister (she doesn't care either, she's just naturally that way, also known as an asshole). I care about taking care of myself and all that doing that represents. I care about being happy and living a long time in order to torture the people I care about most. I care about enjoying myself and not living in a self-made food prison. I care about walking on the beach without freaking out. Obviously. I care about being confident. I care enough about those things to work on them everyday. Some days it is pure torture. I want to order some greasy Chinese food and call it a day. One of those days was yesterday. My point is, if you can believe I have one, is that this process is like anything else. It takes practice. Re-training my brain to deal with stress and sadness in another way. Not letting those feelings cloud my better judgement. Calling or texting someone out of loneliness is no beuno. As is eating a huge serving of eggplant parm. Same shit, different vice. Did I make my point? God, I hope so.