I think I’m pretty. Sometimes, even a knock-out.
But I don’t much like the way I look.
Some of y’all might’ve just groaned and rolled your eyes so far back into your heads you’re seeing your own brains at that declaration. But that’s just it. I DO think I’m pretty. I get all dressed up and do my hair and makeup and I think “Wow! I look amazing right now!”
And then I see a picture of myself and I’m all “WHOA. That is NOT how I look in my own head! Or in my own eyes!”
I had a couple of days last week where I felt like I looked slimmer, better, healthier. I had people say “Wow, you’re looking great.” But I think they were just doing that thing where people say you’re looking better because they know you’ve been to the gym and they are trying to be reassuring but nothing’s really changed about you at all.
I find that I don’t want to look at pictures of myself from Joshua’s party on Saturday because I don’t like how I look. I look…large. Unshapely. Blobbish, at best.
I look at this (blurry, oddly cropped, cell phone) photo and I don’t see a happy mom and her son who is enjoying being read to.
I see giant thighs. Upper arms that are perhaps stretching some shirts to their limits. I see a mom trying to hide her mid-section with a book and a child. I see me but not the me I want to see.
I want to see the pretty me that I know is somewhere inside the blob me. But in order to see that girl, I have to stop lying to myself.
I’m trying really hard to focus on how my clothes fit (they don’t) and forget the fact that in the above photo I’m rocking a pair of maternity shorts because the idea of anything with a definite waistband makes me want to cry. I lie to myself by saying I’m wearing them because they’re clean. I’m wearing them because they fit and my other pair of shorts that are identical to those only WITH a waistband don’t.
I’m trying really, really hard to make it to the gym three times a week. And life and my schedule keep getting in the way of me doing that. I’m lying when I tell myself that life and scheduling are in the way. The gym is open 24 hours a day. If I wanted to go three times a week, I could.
I’m trying really hard not to pay attention to the scale. The scale which FINALLY moved 2 lbs this week. Downward. Finally.
And as much as I don’t want this whole McFatty Ride I’m on to be about weight, I know it is. Part of it has to be. Because the weight I see on the scale is higher than I want it to be and isn’t a healthy weight for me, no matter how much I tell myself that the cardio I’m doing is improving my heart health.
So this morning I logged back into Livestrong.com and started entering my food on MyPlate. I have to do something more than what I’m doing in order to keep myself accountable.
I can’t continue to eat like crap and work out and wonder why nothing good is happening for my body.
Lying to myself about what I’m doing isn’t doing me any favors. Telling myself I’m doing the best that I can do to live a healthier lifestyle when I know I’m not isn’t working well. Or at all. And if I’m going to live a healthier lifestyle and I can’t be honest with myself, this isn’t going to work.
Any words of encouragement for me? I could use them.