Despite the name of my blog, I have really avoided writing about my weight, because that is not even a little bit fun. But, alas, the time has come.
Some background: I have struggled with my weight and self-esteem issues for as long as I can remember. I gained a significant chunk in college, and then a REALLY significant chunk post-college. This is me, a year and a half ago, at my heaviest:
I literally have no words for how damn hard it is for me to post that picture.
Close to when that picture was taken I decided my life needed a dramatic change, for my health and sanity, and I started at Slimgenics. Over the last year I've lost weight with Slimgenics, had major life crises that derailed my weight loss, and rejoined Slimgenics. At the end of the day, I can now say that since that picture was taken I am 55 pounds lighter, like so:
Huzzah! I'm proud of myself. Let's bask in that for a moment.
Basking aside, I still have about 30 pounds to lose. And this last 30 pounds SUCKS. It is an epic, clawing battle every single day. Some days I do awesome and some days I set myself back, but I'm still fighting. Emphasis on the word fight.
Last night at Slimgenics I had an experience that really rattled my brain. One of the "counselors" (my irritation for them using that word is a whole separate blog), who is a friend and genuinely cares about me, got very upset with me. Monday I ate some nachos at school and my weight was two pounds up. Yeah, that sucks, but I still went in and wanted to talk about moving forward. To summarize, this is what he told me - "I'm just so worried about you because you still have so much weight to lose and you are so young to be out of control of your weight and I don't think you will ever be healthy if you can't win this battle and I don't think you care about losing weight or your health." There were more points made along these lines, but you get the gist. By the time I left, I was hysterically crying.
Side note: I'm a big crier, so that doesn't actual mean a ton.
I could NOT pull myself together. I sat in my car for twenty minuets bawling before I could even drive home. I then proceeded to cry for two hours while writing a paper, and then two more hours while I sat in the bathtub. I was so upset that I couldn't even tell my husband why I was crying because the words kept sticking in my throat.
"GOOD HEAVENS. What the heck am I so upset about??" - that's the question I tossed and turned about all night.
There was truth in what he had said (and he was truly trying to speak in love) - I still do have a long road ahead of me and I have been more complacent recently.
But I'm finally beginning to process why I was so devastated, and it was not from the truth in his words.
First of all, it does not acknowledge the hard work that I've done. My last 30 pounds are more because of appearances than health. My pulse and blood pressure are at an all time low. My glucose levels are fantastic. My waist is smaller than the recommended 35 inches for gut health. My cholesterol has dropped 100 points. I am healthy, especially when compared to where I came from.
Second, and more importantly, shame is not a motivator. Being overweight for most of my life, I've shamed myself until it's part of my constant inner dialogue. Common place thoughts I have/had because of my body:
"No one could truly love you when you look like a whale."
"You are disgusting and not worthy of anyone's time, you will never make anything of yourself in life."
"What the hell is wrong with you? You are such a useless piece of fat shit."
"All of your friends are thin, and then there's you, you nasty pile of garbage."
And honestly these are the nicer thoughts. And where do these shameful thoughts come from? Satan. He's an asshole. He wants me to dwell on my weight and body, and to feel like scum all the time. How can I be glorifying God when I'm busy obsessing over how I look and feel?
As I've started to feel better about myself he has to use new tactics to get me down, bringing in people with good intentions to make me feel like a failure and worthless. Last night I let him win. I cried in my bathroom and spent hours thinking about how I suck at everything and I will never make anything of myself, all because I ate some nachos.
But. He isn't the winner. Christ is. Christ died for me and loves me so much. ALL OF ME. Even when I was the girl in that first picture, he loved me just as much as he loves me today, and just as much as he will love me when I get to my goal weight. I carry his spirit in my. I am made in his image. That doesn't change with my appearance, ever. I will continue to work on being healthy, not because I want to wear a certain size, but because my body is a temple and I want to honor God in all aspects of my life.
And sometimes, I will eat nachos. And it'll be glorious, not shameful.
God created me. Christ died for me. The Holy Spirit is in me. I WIN SATAN, HA! As one of my all time favorite lines in a song says, "'...I've told you once - you son of a bitch - I'm the best that's ever been!"