Weigh in day today.
I’m 86.8 kilograms.
Which is 1.1 kilogram more than I was last week.
I’m not really surprised though, I didn’t think last week was deserved, and I haven’t been very good this week either.
I’ve been using a weight-loss ticker from TickerFactory and it is all too revealing.
I’m not really losing weight at all, I’m just charting the minute fluxuations of my slack-ass self that can’t be bothered trying to do anything. And moaning when the numbers don’t drop.
If I’d consistently lost like I planned to, losing an average of 500 grams (about a pound) per week as is reccomended, then I’d be roughly 81kgs by now. My weight graph would show real progress. I would be below my pre-pregnancy weight with Katerina, and below my full-term weight with Zamara.
I’d be getting my life back.
But no, instead I can’t do a damn thing for myself. I walk, and then I don’t.
I exercise, when I can be bothered.
I make healthy food. Maybe 3 times a week.
I eat regularly. Sometimes, if we have decent stuff in the house.
But mostly I moan and complain and feel fat and gross and hate myself. I don’t fit any of my non maternity clothes. I don’t have any underwear that’s actually comfortable to wear. I haven’t worn a pair of jeans for approximately 16 months. I haven’t worn my favorite pair of jeans for closer to 2 years.
But I won’t buy new, fat, clothes, because it seems a waste. And I don’t have any spare money regardless, especially not with Christmas. So I wear clothes that I don’t like, and I wear clothes that make me look as pregnant as I looked at 35 weeks. Except I’m not pregnant. And if I was, well at least then I’d be losing weight, as I lose an average of 3 kilos in the first trimester.
And there’s a part of me that just can’t be bothered anymore. I can’t be bothered eating, but when I do, it’s all junk food anyway, because that’s all we have in the house. I can’t be bothered cooking, so junk food is really all that’s quick and easy to make over here. Plus I’m a paranoid cynic anyway and don’t really believe that “weight-loss” food is what it’s cracked up to be.
Really what it comes down to is that I have lost all faith in myself. I know about healthy food - I know how to do it. But I don’t love myself enough to do it. I don’t have enough time to myself to do it. I don’t have enough money to do it.
The funny thing is, at this point in my life, other than just plain out-of-shape-ness, I have no obesity related illnesses. My cholesterol is good, my blood pressure runs low, I have no markers for diabetes. But I’m gaining an average of 3kg a year - and that’s with trying to lose weight (and continually failing - not so much yo-yo dieting as halting stop-start gaining). I’m reasonably certain that an obesity related illness will eventually kill me. I watch shows like Half-Ton Hospital and actually relate. I’m not a thin person in disguise. I’m a much fatter person, that’s merely staved it off thus far.
I can imagine myself as a 400lb person all too well.
I literally cannot imagine myself at my goal weight - or even at a healthy weight. I’ve never been a healthy weight, so I have nothing to draw on.