Well, Ladies, I've only been at 3FC for a little under a month, but I thought I would share this with you all. You may or may not find it inspirational, but I did. I'm almost at the four-week mark of my new WOL and I decided to write a motivational piece in my journal for reflection and inspiration. Well, being the egomaniac that I am 
I just thought it was too darn good not to share. Besides, all of the support and motivation I have gotten from this site have been invaluable in my success so far, and my change in mentality is in part due to all of you 
Well, I'm at the four-week mark and it's time for a little reflection. I have not lost weight as quickly as I had hoped, and I'm feeling a bit discouraged by that. I have exercised every day, have added weights and increased my cardio, and have not slipped up ONCE on my WOE in a month. Still the scale has stopped for two weeks. I know the mechanisms behind it, I know all the metabolic, biologic, hydraulic and idiotic things I should know about stalls and plateaus, but I can't help but feel I've done something wrong. So, today, I say to **** with the scale. I'm not going to concentrate so much on where I am or have yet to go that I forget how far I've come. In one month I have completely revised my eating habits, and increased my energy. I have removed myself from the binge-eating cycle of feast and famine and am nurturing my body. I have started and maintained and even improved upon an exercise program. One month. That's not too long. I have received and processed more information regarding health in this past month, and implemented it, than some people I know do in a lifetime. Yeah, I've got a ways to go, but I've come far. It's not about the scale, or the measuring tape or any of the various tools I use to see my progress. It’s about my body, my health and it’s about me. In all the years I spent dieting, from the age of 8 until now, the scale has always been my downfall. The stalls, the plateaus, the frustration and depression that sent me into the vicious cycle every dieter has experienced. I will NOT let that happen again. This time I am proud. I’m proud that I can run without wheezing. I’m proud I can be satisfied with one portion instead of four. I’m proud of how far I’ve come and I have a right to be, don’t I?
What is weight anyway? Just a measure of mass. It just tells me how much of me there is. I like me, who cares if there’s more or less? I don’t. I don’t care anymore if there’s more of me or less of me, as long as there’s some of me for a long time. I want an aesthetically pleasing body, but I won’t get trapped in that mentality; a healthy heart beats rock-hard abs any day. Beauty comes with health; the weight loss and killer figure are just perks to nurturing my body. So from now on, I won’t concentrate on that pudge that jiggles when I run. I’ll concentrate on my heart. I can feel it pumping blood to my muscles, and my muscles are moving, and eating up oxygen and glycogen and telling me “We need more! Give us more! We love to move, it’s our job!” I’ll think about my lungs, how they crave oxygen and breathe deeply and I will picture my red blood cells plumping and deepening their red color as they pass through the alveoli and move to my heart. I’m doing that, all on my own. Every second my heart pumps blood and my lungs breathe air and my muscles contract and release I will remember that this is my body, and it’s wonderful. I will think about how much good I am doing for it. My body will have to carry me for years to come; I have to take care of it. I’ll listen to my muscles, and I’ll picture them. Striated and red and contracting and relaxing, the pull and push that they do so well; that they were made to do. My muscles have a job, my bones have a job, and they can’t do it unless I let them. If I let them, they’ll thank me. My muscles will grow strong and my bones will thicken and they will be cushioned, cradled by the muscle that I build around them and when I am old they will thank me for not letting them rest. I refuse to be decrepit or dependent in my golden years. I will be strong, and healthy, just as my ancestors were. I am strong and I will remain strong and grow stronger every day and I will do it for me, for my body, and for my children and grandchildren. Every person alive today is descended from fighters. Our ancestors hunted and gathered and roamed and ran and fought tooth and nail to survive. And they did. And they thrived. And they got pretty damn good at surviving and thriving. And those are my genes. Every cell of my body holds a little packet of warrior-blood. I won’t let thousands of years of human evolution go to waste because I like Oreos. I was born strong and I’ll die strong and I won’t go without a fight. I refuse to outlive my usefulness because I refuse to become useless. There’s a lot standing in my way – cravings and fat and weakness and that voice in my brain that says “yes, you can eat what you want, do what you want, you’re young, it’s okay” – but I’ll overcome it. Because that’s what we do. That’s what nature does, what humans do. We see a problem, and we fix it. And I’ll fix this yet. After all, I was born to do it, and I can’t deny my fate.
Thank you all, from the bottom of my heart, for sharing your stories; your successes and your failures. They have been invaluable to me, and I’m sure for many others.
And since this is getting pretty sappy I’ll just leave it at that
Motivational Piece
