You hate to run. You look ridiculous. How much jiggling are you going to subject these poor, lean, better runners to this morning? What if you knee goes out on you again? Then what will you do? You're feeling crappy because you don't drink enough water. Why can't you drink enough water? You keep forgetting to measure how much creamer you're putting in your coffee, so those daily calories counts aren't even accurate. You could do this every morning and still not lose the weight.
She needed to shut up.
But that's how it goes with the weight loss journey. Your old, lazy, angry self is going to fight back and make you feel like it's all useless. The question is, who's got more fight in her? The old me or the new?
Here's the truth:
I would like to lose 28 pounds from what the scale shows me this morning: it's at 173, which is 11 pounds heavier than my lowest. Yes, I packed on 15 pounds, slowly and quietly over the past year. It was easy and effortless, which feeds negative Tori more fuel for getting down on herself.
But positive Tori points out: I have already lost 75 pounds from my heaviest, some in short spurts, but the majority of it doing exactly what I am doing now: counting calories and exercising regularly. I am not a freak of nature that will continue to do this for months and never see the scale budge.
I do not look like this any more. (This was at the going away party at Blinn 4 years ago.) Even when I feel pudgy jogging around the track, I am not 230 pounds.
In fact, ten days ago I was 3.4 pounds heavier than I am now.
Will I be in size 8 jeans this month? No. But will my size 12 jeans now be less snug and better looking by the end of the month? Why, yes, thankyouverymuch, they will. And, to reiterate, they aren't size 20 jeans any more.
I, who am admittedly addicted to diet coke, has not had one since the New Year began. Will I never have another? Nope. Does the fact that I've not had one for 12 days mean something anyway? Of course it does! Even if I'm not getting in 100 ounces of water a day, I'm getting more now than I ever did because I'm not replacing it with chemical compounds designed to make me crave real sweetness (which aspartame does).
I ate two oreos yesterday. Two oreos in the past 12 days, versus the package that once sat open on the coffee table where I would mindlessly munch on them.
And I suppose all of this confessing is because it's part and parcel of the fight that we don't hear a lot about. Staying motivated is hard. And the old voices don't just disappear overnight. But they aren't in control anymore. So if this is part of the exorcism, cue up the Latin (Ego te absolvo. . .) and bring on the holy water. I prefer mine with a slice of lemon.