WARNING: I have no idea what I am about to write. If this makes no sense to anyone but me, I'm good with that.
For the last 12 years I have struggled with my body image. Having babies has a way of changing one's shape. Three years after I had my first baby I joined Weigh Down and lost 20 lbs or so. I was thrilled. The body I had been used to was a lean, muscled machine. I was quite active, a lifeguard and never ate excessively, in fact, I could eat pretty much whatever I wanted and never gained anything. In Bible College I had less than 14% body fat. Before I got pregnant for the first time we moved closer to where I worked and my long daily walks went out the window. I started putting on a few pounds (I had a desk job). So after weigh down I was back at a healthy weight and I was a happy camper, after baby #2, I was back at pre-pregnancy 6 weeks later, I figured I had this thing nailed. Then baby #3 came along with all his health issues and I was a wreck. Baby #4 came only 17 months later, I hadn't taken off a lot in between the two and battled with some post-partum depression. Then a miscarriage and baby #6 arrived two years later. I am not horribly overweight, about 20 lbs or so. In all my pregnancies I never got over 200 lbs (that was my goal and I managed to keep things there) I am 5'8" tall. Some kind souls have told me that I'll never get rid of this extra weight so I might as well get used to it. Perhaps I should name this extra roll and we can talk late at night. Now that I'm 40 I realize that weight loss is going to be more difficult, but that isn't what has me on a rant today. My wonderful husband told me to go write something caustic...why...because he thought it might help me work through how I'm feeling right now and somewhere in the middle of it God just might give me a flower. So now that the backdrop has been painted I'll tell you why I'm a little peeved this morning. Let it be known to one and all that.........
I HATE SCALES
oh sure they have their place, like as a paperweight or perhaps a particularly pretty one could be used as a decoration, but for the most part I think they should be banned from every woman's bathroom and bedroom because they make us feel like scum, even when we're doing something good.
In May, I started a walking program. Since then I have walked two or three times a week, sometimes more, sometimes less but I've done it. There were two weeks I was sick and the week of recovery that I didn't walk at all, but other than that, I've been pretty good at getting my walks in. These aren't regular walks, they are aerobic walks, working every muscle of my body and making me sweat. I'm drinking water and all that. I don't overeat very often due to years of weigh down training. It does happen, I'd be lying if I said I didn't but overall, I'm not an overeater. So why am I upset today. I decided to step on that stupid scale and guess what????
I am still the same weight that I was in May (20 lbs overweight). I am not asking for miracles here, I just want the scale number to move for goodness sake. Oh sure it did a little slidy dance down a couple notches, up a couple notches, up, down, up, down, never more than that little 6 pound spread that could happen in the week of your period. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Do my clothes fit differently? NO
Do I feel extremely more fit? NO
Do I sleep better at night? NO
SO WHY AM I BOTHERING TO DO THIS???????????
And here's the best part of all...........this morning...........I am going to convince a bunch of other ladies that this is a great thing to do!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HA, I'll say it again, HA! They aren't going to see any results on this frame. Perhaps I have leaner muscle somewhere under there, perhaps there are subtle changes occuring that I just can't see, perhaps I am healthier and my risk of heart disease is actually less. Unfortunately I can't measure that. For all intents and purposes the 100 miles I've walked hasn't done any visible good that I can see except maybe that I can say I did it.
Is that worth something. At least I'm trying? At least I'm sticking with something? At least I can? I really do like it. I really enjoy the workouts, I'm not sick of doing them even after all these months. Is that worth something? I know that I am doing something good for my body even though I'm not getting the results that I want. Perhaps it's God's grace that I haven't dropped the 20 lbs, I'd have to buy new clothes and I can't afford that. On the other hand my weight has been pretty stable for the last number of years. This is the same weight that my body has gone to for the last 6 years or so. However, I know it likes the 20 lbs less weight quite well, too.
So how do I change my focus in all this? What I want is to lose the 20 lbs. Honestly I don't care much about lessening my risks of anything, I know I should, but I don't. I'd even by happy with 15 lbs, I'd be fine with that. 10 would be okay, not great, but okay. I know that would be better for my knees. That's one thing I am concerned about, both my parents have bad knees, I have inherited their knees and I know that every pound that comes off will help them last longer. One of the reasons I am trying to lose weight is for my knees.
The biggest reason is my vanity. I hate this extra roll. I'm going to give it a name, not a people name because somebody might get the impression that I don't like them, I'll call it XR5. XR5 needs to go. I know it might never go because apparently I have a muscle separation down the length of the roll right where XR5 lives. I don't know what that means except maybe that having had 6 pregnancies might have given it the message that there is no hope of ever coming back together.
Okay I need to get ready to leave and I'm not done ranting yet. maybe I'll just save this draft and see what God does in my heart today. Perhaps this story isn't over just yet.
The walking thing was good. I didn't have to convince anyone and no one asked me how many pounds I've lost doing it. XR5 and I did fine and I realized somewhere during this day that no one but me cares what the number on the scale is - except for the possibility of my knees, they care.
So why do I care so much? Could it be the Barbies I played with as a child have caused permanent damage? I doubt it. However, all the media stuff, diets galore, health consciousness and all that certainly does play a role in how we feel about ourselves. I don't know why I can't just get comfortable with the skin I'm in. Maybe someday I will. Maybe someday I'll quit being jealous of women with flat stomachs who don't have any overhang. Maybe I'll just buy baggy shirts for the rest of my days and throw away every single item of clothing that clings to me. You never know someone might nominate me for one of those make=over shows and I'll get a free tummy tuck!!
I'm really tired and tomorrow I'm heading off with a bunch of wonderful women to put my pictures into albums. Scrapbooking they call it - those are not scraps as far as I'm concerned. My poor, neglected 4 year old will finally have some pictures in his photo album beyond him coming home from the hospital! How pathetic is that I ask you. REally, my kids LOVE looking through their albums, they love pictures of themselves and all the little things I stick in there. They're called memories and they tell a story of their life. That's why I do this thing, even though it might just kill me in the end. But I'm looking forward to a weekend of no demands and no dishes or cooking. TA TA