I know better than to blog when I am emotional. I do. But sometimes I like to ignore that little voice in my head telling me that I should be reasonable. Because I can.
This week's weight: 134lbs
Goal weight: 130lbs
The weight is still a goal. Because, according to my very lovely husband "you still have weight you could lose". Which, he did clarify to say, meant that I am not yet anorexic (actually, the term he used was "growing fur" but I made the leap.).
I know what he's trying to say. Scott is telling me that:
a) I knew what I was getting into
b) I am disrespecting the integrity of the challenge
But what I hear is that I'm fat.
I know better. I know that I'm not fat. My head understands that weight doesn't matter, it's how I feel about my body. It's that I feel strong and healthy.
My self esteem still hears it. The dreaded "F" word.
He didn't tell me I'm fat. Not exactly. He went so far as to preface his comments with "I'm not saying that you're fat". Regardless, hearing the words "You have weight to lose" and "You should keep on losing weight" hurt. A lot.
It doesn't matter how many time HE tells me that it's not what he was saying. It doesn't matter how many times I tell myself that that isn't what he was saying. The echo of the feeling resonates through me.
fat, fat, fat, fat, fat.
I work so hard and (usually) feel so good about myself. A lot of my healthy body image is comes from the knowledge that Scott finds me attractive. Well, that, and shopping for clothes!
So, what am I going to do about it?
What? You mean I can't just complain about a problem? I actually need to fix this frickin' mess?
First: I'm going to cry until I feel better.
Second: Diet, diet, diet! And go.
Third: Prioritize. Make the time, every day, for my diet. Too frickin' bad if it gets in the way of laundry or dishes. You wanted me to do this? I will. (Implied: So there!)
Fourth: If I don't make it, then I don't make it. Missing one year of drinking at Christmas won't kill me. I can dd everyone everywhere. I won't tell anyone why I can't drink and let them think I'm pregnant.
Pity party over. Mostly.