"Some days the lion eats you, but some times you shove your arm down
it's throat and pull it's viscera out through it's mouth and kill it. Of
course, sometimes it bites your arm off, and then eats you, but you
tried, that's what counts. Some days it's not about winning, but about
fighting. If you don't try, the lion will most definitely eat you. But
sometimes when you put your all into something, and don't give up even
when the odds are so against you, you surprise the lion and yourself,
and you win." ~ Laurell K Hamilton
This weight (and the obsession with numbers that go with trying to get rid of it) is my own personal lion.
I slipped this weekend though. I didn't really think of it as a slip at the time, I was thinking (because I apparently suck at math) that it had been two weeks since my last appt with The Doc, when, in reality, it was only something like 9 days. Before I realized that it was only the 9 days, though, I decided that it would be ok to weigh myself at home. Just a check in to see how progress was going. Every two weeks isn't too much, right?
Never mind the fact that my scale and the scale at The Doc's office are totally different, of that I am sure. I had forgotten that my scale was off a few pounds.
But, I did it, and though I was pleased with my number, reflecting on it, I have no way in knowing whether it is progress or not. That is not my scale of reference anymore. I told The Beard, and he wants to hide it now. He doesn't want me to start playing the numbers game again. I told him no, I don't need or want him to do that. I can go without weighing myself. It won't be hard not to do it again.
I emailed him this morning and requested that he hide it.
Why? Because I'm an OCD freak when it comes to some things. I've caught myself several times since weighing myself Saturday morning, wanting to go back and hop on it again. Because of that, I've had him hide it from me before when I've worked on weight loss, because I sometimes start to weigh myself every day, if not several times per day. I get into the head space that is 100% number driven.
If I weigh myself now, and then go pee, how much of a difference does it make? I wonder what the difference in weight will be after I have dinner? WHY DO I WEIGHT 0.2 POUNDS MORE THIS MORNING THAN I DID BEFORE I WENT TO BED LAST NIGHT?
It starts turning into this awful torment. Something that plagues me, instead of motivating me.
Why are we such a number driven culture? Why do we have to weigh a certain amount to feel good about ourselves? Why do we believe if we just get down to a size two, or under a certain weight, that we will finally be happy?
It's not true. A number won't change things. Not when it comes to this.
I had a friend, years ago. She was beautiful, sweet, smart, and funny... pretty much the total package. She also had horrible body issues. She was tall and thin, barely any fat on her. She had her number though; if she went over that number, her world just about ended - regardless of how unrealistic that number was. We all looked at her with envy, wishing we could be close to as thin or pretty as she was. She didn't see it though, it was never enough. She lived, and struggled, in a life that was controlled by something as nebulous as a number.
I can't sit here and be honest with you and say that this journey isn't about numbers for me at all. It is. My number, though, my ultimate number, is based purely on health. Not some number that has no basis in reality. Not some number that will give me the body of a model, if that were even possible. My number is one that will put me at the weight that will help me to be the healthiest that I can be.
My goal isn't to be a size two. I doubt that I will get there, but if I do, then I do. If I never get below a size 10, then I don't. I will go until my doctor tells me to stop; until he tells me that I am where I need to be. I WILL FIGHT this battle against my body, and against my brain's desperate need for numbers.
I'm pretty sure lion meat is full of protein.
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