Saturday, April 13, 2013


I've been debating on whether or not I wanted to write this post for a long time.  I'm not sure what I was afraid of exactly.  Maybe judgement?  Maybe people offering unsolicited advice.  Maybe that by writing it in a blog $hit would get real, really quickly.  I'm not quite sure.  Or maybe I just didn't want to write this blog  because I didn't want to get real with myself and face reality.  I'm not quite sure.  Tears are forming in my eyes as I write this.

I'm at a point in my life where I realize that life moves too quickly.  Time passes in the blink of an eye and all those things you put off for tomorrow get put off to the next day and the next day.  Next thing you know 10 years have gone by and you are in the same damn spot you were in before.

I'm about to tell you something.  Brace yourselves.  You'll never believe what I'm about to tell you.

I'm fat.

I know, I couldn't believe it myself.

Truth is, I've always been fat.  Full figured.  Curvy.  Whatever the heck you want to call it.

The problem with that is that at one point a few years ago I let myself go like horribly.  I've gathered that it was from a lack of exercise, adequate sleep, too much work and school, and one day I woke up and was like holycrapsticks pounds.

I never owned a scale before.  I had no clue how it happened.  It just did.  Slowly overtime I woke up like super mega fat when previous to that I was just fat.  Fast forward two years and I managed to loose 50 pounds.  Easily at that.  I mean I exercised, but not as often as I should.  I watched what I ate, but really that just meant I didn't eat carbs anymore.  And the pounds fell off more easily than I expected.  I mean the 50 pounds just went away over night it felt like...when really it was a 2 year process. But still.  I wasn't really depriving myself.  But I was single.  So if I wanted diet coke and a handful of popcorn for dinner then that's what I ate.  The biggest meal of the day I had was lunch.  I always ate breakfast and had two sensible snacks during the day.  I ate hardly any dinner and had a sensible snack in the evenings but not after a certain time of the day.

Then fast forward two years.  I've found myself in the happiest place I've ever been in my life.  Great job.  Great friends.  New house.  Being blessed enough to be in love with my true best friend whom loves me  like I love him and makes me laugh day in and day out.  But I woke up one day and realized that 25 of the 50 pounds lost has found it's way to my ass again.  It's so overwhelming.  It's so damn frustrating.  It makes me feel discouraged.  It makes me feel broken, weak, stressed, and quite honestly want to throat punch someone.

I don't have anyone to blame but myself.  I don't work out anymore.  I complain that I don't have time.  I mean I work 10-12 hour work days most weeks and by the time I get home I don't want to do anything but have a moment of peace and quiet, watch some reality tv, and find something decent that's not wrinkled to wear to work the next day that is somewhat cute and professional.  Then it's time for bed and the cycle repeats itself.  By the time the weekend comes I find myself on my usual Saturday and Sunday rituals.  Get up, clean the house, do laundry, meal plan, grocery shop, coupon if I have time, and repeat.  Then it's Monday again.

Every time I get on the scale it gets more frustrating.  It gets more depressing.  I joined WW.  It's working when I have time to measure EVERYTHING, count points for EVERYTHING.  It's freaking exhausting.  I mean I don't have the time to use a calculator or iPhone app to write down every morsel that I eat.  I managed to loose 5 pounds after being on it one month.  Then gained all 5 pounds plus 2 more back a month after that.  It's always something.  This time I blamed it on the move and the being so disorganized and not able to meal plan and stay on schedule.

I know this is a rather personal post but I guess I'm just looking for some motivation.  I mean I feel so tired, stressed, discouraged, you name it.  I wish I had the energy to actually wake up at 5:30 and workout for an hour.  I must admit my alarm goes off every morning at 5 AM.  This is my attempt at making myself get up early and exercise.  But I never do.  I hit snooze until I'm almost late and 10 minutes past actual time to get in the shower.  I'm just so tired.  My brain hurts.  Life is too much.  So much to do.  So little time.  How do I make time for me?  How do I make time for my health.  How do I be a super woman that does it all 100% perfectly.  I just find myself feeling like an epic failure all the time.

My house isn't clean enough.  My laundry isn't caught up.  My car isn't clean enough.  I'm not organized enough.  I don't make everything from scratch.  I don't do this or that.  Why does it feel like if you aren't doing everything perfectly all the time that you are a failure.  This feeling of failure is resulting in the lack of devotion and  motivation to exercise and getting back on track to loose that 25 pounds that I gained back and then loose some more.  I just feel so damn overwhelmed.  There is only 24 hours in a day and I have 30 hours worth of stuff I need to do EVERY.DAMN.DAY.

I am one of the luckiest women in the world to have a loving devoted man in my life that loves me exactly how I am.  But yet I have this constant feeling of failure, anxiety, and like I'm not where I need to be.  Which is resulting in the numbers of the scale going up and up.

How do I get my mojo back again?  My motivation to work out?  My dedication to obsessively counting my WW points and making sure I'm following the plan to the exact detail?  I just feel so overwhelmed.  How do I get back on track?

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