Wednesday 21 October 2015

Inner Chubby Girl

She's there.
She's there all the time.
Sometimes her voice is loud, and dominating.
And I give in.
Other times the voice is a quiet whisper in the background.
But it is always there.
Every.  Damn.  Day.

I don't know what it's like to be a small person.
I've never, ever in my life, aside from infancy, (and even then I'm not too sure!) been able to eat whatever I like and not worry about the consequences.
Ever.

That's OK.
I'm not complaining.
It is my own path, and it's a pretty beautiful one to be on.
However, I just don't know what it's like.
Does everyone have this voice?  Has it always been there?

I've carried around extra pounds forever.
Still do.
Just a whole bunch less now.

But, my inner, chubby girl voice is always, always inside my head.

She's the one who says, "g'head, eat that.  It's OK."
"You haven't had a lot of sleep, and you're stressed and that spoonful of peanut butter/handful of chocolate chips/mini candy bar, or three, isn't THAT big of a deal."

I don't think she'll every go away.

"Y'know what?  How 'bout just f*ck it today.
Just be fat today, and start again tomorrow.
Although you know I don't care about that, so really I'll just encourage you to do the same tomorrow, soooooooooo...
what was the point of all your hard work anyways?"

It doesn't get easier.
You just get better.

You get better.  Stronger.

You make the choices, every day, every moment, to get you to your goals.

And when you reach your final goal, that chubby broad will still be saying shit like, "YAHOO!  We've arrived!  Bring on the cheeseburgers and poutine!  And then we'll finish it off with cheesecake and donuts!  WOOHOO!"
That b*tch never goes away.

I'm comfortable knowing that the voice is here to stay.
But It makes me uncomfortable to live in constant fear for what feels like the inevitability of a future failure.  Setback.
Gain.

That the voice will prevail one day, and then again the next day, and for a few weeks, or months or years, and I'll find myself at a weight that starts with 2 again.

She can be so convincing.  Familiar, and comfortable.
She is me, after all.

The weight loss struggle has little to do with calories in vs. calories out.
And everything to do with battling inner beasts, and conquering them, day after day after day...










Thursday 15 October 2015

Choices. Every. Day. Making Choices.

I should be putting laundry away.
Or finishing dishes from lunch.
Or starting another load of laundry, since obviously the second you put clothes away there will be another full hamper to do.
Obvi.
Really, and truly, I should be getting in the shower.

I tend to stay in my sweaty gym clothes waaaaaaaaay too long.
Ask Audrey.

Last night, I had just returned from a run, and was carrying her down to the girls' bed.
"Mom, you're warm.  And sticky.  And, kinda smelly."
Thanks, kid.
Your breath smells pretty special too.

We all tend to convene in our bed.
Thank heaven for king sized beds because many mornings there are five of us in there, and we are all still friends.
Mostly.

There are only two TVs in our house, and one of them happens to be in our room, so naturally, the kids like to spend some time up there watching cartoons.

There will soon come a day when they're not going to want to spend much time with us, and would never dream to hang out in their parents' bed.
So for now, like this morning, while they really love Mom & Dad's room, I'll take it.


School day mornings are very hectic.
Get everyone out of bed around 7.
Feed three little people.  One will decide that there's nothing they'd like for breakfast of the five  two options I've given them.
Get weather appropriate clothing onto three children.
Get oldest child's lunch and snack packed and books packed for school, and probably sign something for the teacher.
Get oldest on the bus.
Pack two littles into car, with water and snacks and head to the gym and/or to preschool.
And all before 815.
My husband has to get up an hour earlier.
But he has to get only himself ready and to work.
I would trade him a million times over, for that one hour less of sleep!

I've been shuttling the littles with me to the gym quite a bit lately, which is nice for me because then there's no pressure about getting back home to pick someone up.
I think it's good for them too, to see their Mom lifting heavy things and working out like mad.

I know it's having impact on them, when I catch my middle gal doing a burpee while she's watching some weirdo show on youTube.
Or grinders, which, of course, she makes look like a breeze.

I want to be able to show them that Mom's can have muscle.
Mom's can have a lot of muscle.
Mom's can be not so muscle-y, too, but my goal is to have muscles.

Which means less donuts.
And I'm getting much better at this, but it's so hard to give up those delicious lil' nuggets!

I was very sick for a couple of weeks and didn't eat anything of substance.
I lost 5 pounds, which promptly found their way back when I started eating again.

I also noticed a definitive lack of strength at the gym, and endurance while running.
I have worked for months, years, I might even say, to gain strength and muscle mass, and it felt like in just two weeks, I lost so much.
I will work even harder to regain what left so quickly, but it was depressing to notice the regression.

I want to have muscle not because of how it looks, (although I think it does look awesome!), but because when I have more muscle, I can eat more.

F'reals.

Most of my motivation, in life, comes from food.
I love to eat.
Always, have, obviously!

Now, though, I'm concerned with how my body performs, which means making wise choices, most of the time.
That being said, having muscle allows me to eat more, and sometimes to make less healthy choices.
Sometimes.

There comes a time, during every, single long run, when I start to talk about food, if I'm with other runners.
If I'm alone, my thoughts are almost entirely consumed (no pun intended!) by food.

Many of the races I choose to do, have fantastic food at the finish line.

I've always loved to eat.
And now I can say that without it feeling like a dirty word.

I'm at a place where I'm comfortable with the consequences of the lousy choices, and I really hate how I feel, so I choose to eat well, because I feel, well.

So, my goal is to have more muscle.
So I can lift like a bad a**, have a nice one, and eat more!
Now, I think it's time for me to make a snack...
And then I definitely have to shower.
But, food first.