Walking down the beach in the last weekend of a long summer. My legs hurt, my dogs are pulling me faster and I just keep thinking about the grains of sand embedded in my thighs and the impending rash that will result from them. I wade into the water to try to get rid of the substance and the bottoms of my shorts get soaked, begin to fall down, exposing my stomach.
I just sat there, staring at the waves rolling in, wondering what the **** I got myself into being almost 270 pounds. I wish I could say I remember the days when being at the beach at sunset made you feel beautiful but in this moment in time I feel frumpy and hopeless. 130 pounds seems so far away. The idea of being able to wear a bathing suit that doesn’t ride up or expose me would be one of the greatest accomplishments. Just to be able to wear a suit under normal clothes. To take those clothes off and wear the suit and not have to sit in the car soaking wet and itchy because I am too ashamed to remove my clothes in public.
I am in this personal war with myself these past few weeks. I am not giving up by any means but the frustrations that come with dieting, losing pounds one week, not losing the next, working harder only to level the scale when you stand on it, is really getting to me.
I know it is ignorant to expect change over night. But I feel like I am not making the progress I should be. Because of that I am being stricter on myself, which might be doing more damage than it is good.
I am looking at it as an addiction. But what the sick sad part is that with a drug addict – there is a clear line – that you can’t have that substance. With overeating – you have to have that “drug” in order to survive but you have to take it in moderation. You have to deal with the food commercials jammed in your face ever minute of every day. You can change the channel, or go for a walk but the billboards haunt you. It is everywhere.
I know I have the problem and I know I am going to fix it but the journey is becoming more distracting and more torturous as the weeks turn into months. It has taken over my mind frame and the battle is all I can think about.
The things that don’t kill you will only make you stronger – but what if what is supposed to make you stronger is killing you?