Here We Go Again

The time has come. That dreaded, woeful time, that seems to roll back into my life like clock-work just about every 12 to 18 months. It is time once again to lose weight. There, I said it. Why does it sound like such a confession? Like a meeting at Yo-Yo Dieters Anonymous:

“My name is Christina and I am trying to lose the same ten pounds that I’ve lost and re-gained more than half a dozen times.”

“Hiii Christina!”

Like virtually every female I know (so sad, so true), I am locked in a never-ending struggle with my body. As a little kid I was an absolute bean-pole, but I have memories of comparing the size of my "fat" thighs to the other girls at school that go back as young as six years old. At age 12, I put on about 50 pounds that can be attributed to puberty, angst and plain old fashioned sloth and gluttony. Fast-forward a few years to the beginning of high school, when I promptly quit eating and starting exercising rather obsessively, and I had soon shot down to a size so small that it actually scared my parents.

Luckily for me, I wasn’t able to sustain the kind of warped dedication it takes to have a full-blown eating disorder. As numerous and powerful as my neuroses are, eventually they pale in comparison to how much I simply love to eat. By the end of high school I had put on some a few much-needed pounds and settled at a size that, I only now realize, was just about perfect. Since that time, i.e. the last 8 years, I have lost and gained the same ten pounds over and over again. I love food and I loathe exercise with a white-hot passion; not a good combo. At this point, I know at exactly what weight I “feel okay” and, after having gone through this cycle so many times, I know what I need to do to get there. So why doesn’t this ever get any easier?

My dear friend Annie wrote an honest, beautiful blog recently, reflecting on her own body wars and calling on us all to be kinder to ourselves and more grateful to our God-given bodies that, really, do so much for us. Annie and I are kindred spirits when it comes to this particular Achilles heel; she was one of my best friends during the dark period known as my “fat years”. I am pleased to say we are still great friends, almost fifteen years later, during our relatively more “fit and fabulous years”. It helps to know that other people struggle with the same issues and I'm not alone but hurts to know that so many amazing, gorgeous women would ever second-guess their own innate loveliness.

There are good reasons to lose weight; overall health, fitting into clothes (this is legitimate, I shouldn’t be spending money on new clothes when I have a closet full) and self-esteem. There are bad reasons to lose weight; most of which come down to vanity and self-loathing, and the two go more hand in hand than it may first appear.

So this time, as I squeeze into my pants at the upper end of my ten pound spectrum, I will attempt to swing that pendulum back the other way with dual goals: shedding the poundage and keeping myself in check that I’m putting in the sweat and sacrifice for the right reasons. I want to fit back into my hot new jeans without hating myself along the way; even if I may hate life occasionally for the next month or two. I will ask myself more than once, no doubt, during the course of my “Eat Less Move More” regiment if a life without french fries is really worth living? Then I will say to myself, “Self, suck it up, you can eat french fries in heaven” and hop back on the elliptical machine for another half an hour (bought used off Craigslist last week). Make no mistake, I intend to eat french fries in heaven - in between singing of God’s glory with a chorus of angels, naturally. Or at the same time, there's no reason I won't be able to multi-task in heaven.

I’m admitting all this (body issues, current state of pudge, diet goals) to be honest and promote self-awareness and also because, maybe, if I say it out loud I will be more likely to stick with it. Consider me accountable. I’ve known that this spare tire around my belly has needed to come off for months, but haven’t so far been able to get motivated. Complacency is my enemy. Starting today: no more refined sugar, cut out the grease and get on the elliptical for a minimum of 30 minutes six out of seven days a week, plus walks with the dog every day. I’m even going to go so far as limit myself to one glass of wine on the weekends; that this last one is going to be by far the hardest for me is all the more reason that it needs to be done.

With all that said, in the on-going battle of the bulge, the fight begins anew ...