Bear with me for a minute. The title of this post may be a bit misleading. Let me explain.
Today a friend of mine made a post on Facebook about her own struggles with eating and temptation. I've thought about her post all day. About how much her and I have in common. In her post, she talked about her own struggles with emotional eating and how she is reading a book that is helping her work through some of that (I have the book on hold at our library now - it sounds amazing!). Apparently, part of this book talks about personification of your temptations with food. A while back there was a weight loss program that used an orange monster as the representation of temptation. My friend talked about how she imagined a sexy man luring her in.
The more I thought about that concept, the clearer and clearer the image became in my mind of what my tempter looked like. He looks like a creeper in a trench coat. The kind of slimy guy you might see in a dark ally selling fake Rolex watches. The guy in the movies that approaches you on the street and opens his coat to reveal shiny watches and diamonds and jewelry that you *know* are fakes or stolen but it doesn't mean you don't want to buy them. But my tempter. My creeper in a trench coat opens his coat to show me chocolate donuts, Big Macs, french fries, chocolate, and a whole host of other delicious temptations. I know they are bad for me. I know they are unhealthy. I know the joy I would get from giving into the temptation would be fleeting and ultimately disappointing. But just look at how shiny and available they are. Right here. So easy to just reach out and get it.
All day I've imagined this creeper following me around. Some parts of the day he is still hidden in the ally, just peaking out waiting for the right opportunity to approach me. Others (like in the grocery store and they had my FAVORITE chocolate cookies right there calling to me or at the baseball game with FREE ice cream and FREE concession stands) he is in my face begging me to buy one of his wares. He is always there. But with that image in my mind of this grungy guy about to flash me whatever is in his coat, it is almost laughable.
So yes, I am being followed by a creeper in a trench coat. Every day. Every minute of every day.
I am a compulsive eater. I love food. I love to eat when I am happy. I eat when I am sad. But I am working on that. My creeper is going to stop fooling me. Those things don't bring me happiness. I mean sure, maybe for the moment it tastes good and all is right in the world. But those bites end. And I'm left with the same emotions I had before I started eating. Plus the guilt of being ripped off and disappointed in myself.
It is now May. I am 5 months into this year, and I thought I'd be a lot farther down on the scale than I am right now. I am weighing in at 212.6 pounds. Yikes. That's almost exactly how much I weighed the day I delivered my oldest son. Yes, I weigh the same today as I did 9 months pregnant then. It's embarrassing. I don't even recognize myself some days and I am so disguised with my body that I want to cry, and then say fuck it all and eat whatever the creeper is selling.
But no more. Something has to change.
I am on week 4 of a new weight loss program through my insurance company. It require weekly weigh ins (ha - so far I've gained 3 pounds), a weekly group meeting with a weight loss coach, and logging all my food and activity. There are prescribed workouts, prescribed meals, and a whole host of other things that I am supposed to do to help me reach my goal. I have 62 pounds to loose. SIXTY. TWO. That is about the same weight at my 7 year old. I am carrying around an extra 7 year old with every step I take.
But I need to start saying no to my creeper. Stand up to him. Tell him to go away. To stop following me so closely. To get back into the dark ally where he belongs. Because it's time for me to stop wasting myself and save up for the real Rolex. The real diamonds. The real me.
Cause baby, I'm worth it.
