The Quest for a Mile

Last night, I tossed and turned for hours, and I just couldn't fall asleep.

I just kept thinking of that look he gave me, and the way it made me feel.

We always eat lunch with my in-laws after church on Sunday afternoons. Normally this means eating out (and I have made heroic attempts to avoid this in the past, even bringing my own food, but my father-in-law, especially, is offended, and I have caved and just eat what everyone else eats, which only adds to the guilt spiral). Yesterday, however, we had "breakfast for lunch," which included bacon, sausage, scrambled eggs, and cinnamon rolls. It was gooooood, but it was NOT healthy.

Everyone gathered up their plates of greasy goodness and ate in front of the TV, cheering on the local football team. I ate everything on my plate (which really wasn't that bad: 2 pieces of bacon, 1 piece of sausage, a couple of scoops of eggs, and 2 rolls), but I was still hungry. I sat there for about 15 minutes, hoping that the hunger would pass, but it didn't. So I went to go put my plate away, but there they were: an untouched pan of more cinnamon rolls. I stared at them. Well, we couldn't let them go to waste ... or get cold ... or whatever I told myself ... and I grabbed three and went back to my chair to eat them about as fast as I could.

When I sat down by my husband, he looked at my cinnamon rolls, and he looked me me so incredulously, and made a big show of it, looking at the plate, to me, then back to the plate. He proceeded to roll his eyes and shake his head. You could practically hear his thoughts, "You grabbed THAT much? You're gonna eat THAT much??" I never looked him in they eye ... I couldn't. I witnessed all of that out of the corner of my eye. And suddenly I had never needed that sweet, sticky food more in my entire life ... to keep myself from crying ... to keep the horrible thoughts at bay ... yes, I scarfed them down and almost got more. Meanwhile, my husband finished off all of the rest of the bacon and the sausage (which was far more than just a couple of pieces, let me assure you). The anger burned within me of his judgemental nature, when he has never been overweight -- or close to it -- for a day in his life. And I looked at the rest of the family in the room, who all ate as much as me if not more and they never exercise and they are all beanpoles. Phil's mother has even had doctors try to get weight ON her.

I felt sick at myself. Of myself.

And I know that I haven't been working hard enough to lose the weight.

So I laid there last night, remembering that moment when he looked at my plate, and I kept wallowing between despair and self-pity. Is social awkwardness worth this internal battle? What would be SO FRICKING BAD if I made my own dern lunch at times like this?

I remember Phil's grandmother, who told me about a year ago, "Well, you know, you're always gonna be big boned."

Grrr. No, I'm not! I will not be typecasted. I will fight this. I want my skinny self. I want my skinny clothes. I want my LIFE back.

I miss running with my increases of 5 seconds every time. I do. I miss it. It was easy to chart success. So what am I gonna do? I'm gonna start that again. From scratch. Yes, there is shame in starting from scratch, since I started this back in July and I have absolutely nothing to show for it. But it's a new dawn ... it's a new day ... and I'm getting nowhere NOT trying to do something about it.

I'm sorry if I've failed y'all ... I feel like starting over is failing myself ... but I've gotta try *something,* you know?

I did like the idea of cross-training, so I think I'm going to alternate every other day jogging and then something else (yoga, pilates, tennis, aerobic video, DDR, what-have-you). That'll keep it fresh, and improve my stamina in multiple ways instead of just one way.

I am also going to write down my food diary, not allowing myself to go to bed until I have at least written down everything I have eaten that day, and only allow Friday night to be my splurge meal. Friday night is date night. I look forward all week to Friday night. This means Sunday afternoon and Phil's family are just gonna have to get over it.

Somehow I knew that I would go through periods of success and failure once school started. The days are sporadic and my emotions are off the chart and exhaustion has begun to creep into my very bones. But this is important to me, and I know that I must make it routine in order for it to work for me. And, I figure as long as I still care, then I am not lost. As my mother once told me, "It's once you stop caring that you get in trouble."

So, I have a jogging date. This afternoon at 4:00. This is Jogging Time. Today is a new day. Yesterday's "sin"amon rolls are in the past, as well as the hurtful look. If I keep at it, this Auburn will be in the past one day, too.

I'm doing it for myself, because I think Future Auburn is worth it.

Posted in: cinnamon rolls, cross-training, hurtful looks, jogging, recommitment on Monday, September 28, 2009 at at 11:11 AM