There’s the saying that when you hit rock bottom the only way to go is up.
I’ve hit rock bottom.
It’s been a while since I’ve done an emotional post like this, but there’s been some things simmering away in the background. I’ve not had time to get in front of the computer and do what I usually do – share my emotions publicly. But here it is.
I’m so extremely unhappy with how I look right now. I am still nearly 30kg above what I was just before I fell pregnant. It’s been 9 months since he was born, and in that 9 months I’ve heard it all:
- Give your body the same amount of time to lose it as it took to put it on
- You’ll lose it breastfeeding (spoiler alert – I didn’t)
- You’re tired, it’s OK
- You’re raising a baby, that’s more important
- You’ll lose it eventually
The problem is that none of that helps me. It doesn’t magically wave a wand to get rid of it.
Looking in the mirror terrifies me
Every day when I wake up, I glance towards our ensuite where the image in the bathroom is staring back at me. What I see is not someone I’m proud of.
Don’t get me wrong, I know there’s plenty of things I can be proud of myself for.
But the most obvious thing about me, the thing that people see before anything else, I cannot be proud of.
I see the rolls on my stomach and the cellulite on my legs. The bum that jiggles when I move. The arms that have swollen around my upper arms, so much so that some shirts don’t fit me anymore.
I don’t like what I see.
My lack of willpower scares me
I don’t know what’s happened, but in the past fortnight I’ve started binging again. Yesterday was my worst day in a long time.
Let me show you how out of control I am, and for clarity, I’m extremely embarrassed and borderline in tears writing this. During the day I had:
- Leftover macaroon shells that Mario had made for some biscuits (about 20 of these, seriously)
- 1.5 packets of caramel m & m’s
- Two hot chocolates
That’s in amongst my regular meals during the day. I felt so sick that night, and slept terribly. I know it’s because of the sugar intake. Yet for some reason I’m struggling to break the cycle.
Not doing anything about it scares me
Combined with everything else I’ve already mentioned, above all, not doing anything about it scares me.
I need to stop.
Thankfully, I’ve got a plan.
Having a plan gives me confidence
The only way to regain some control was to plan for this to end. I need to get on top of this. I need to lose weight, and start to love myself.
So, here it is.
- Be honest with myself – hence this blog post. Writing it all down and making it public is essentially smacking myself over the head with the truth.
- Stop giving myself excuses – It’s not because I have a baby, or that I’m tired. Sure, those definitely contribute towards the struggle but at the end of the day I am choosing to put the wrong things in my mouth. There’s no excuse for making that choice.
- Remove the decision making – Right now I have no willpower, we’ve covered that already. I’m not making healthy choices, and given the opportunity I will go for the quick fix. I need it to be black and white on what I can and can’t do.
- Make it easy – It’s not an excuse but it’s a reality: I have a baby, so I don’t have time, and I’m going to be tired. So it has to be easy.
It all starts Saturday
For reasons outside of my control I can’t start it until Saturday. Not properly anyway. But tomorrow I will wake up, take a deep breath, and do my best.
Before I write specific details on my plan I want to give myself a couple of weeks to test it. The moment I publish what I’m doing there is going to be a judgement. It’s fine, I get it and I welcome it. I couldn’t have a blog if I didn’t prepare myself for judgement by others. That’s what starts the conversation, and I love and appreciate that!
I just want to know that it’s working.
I want to be able to say to you all that I’m better than I was. That I’m not in the same place I was a fortnight ago. That the tides are changing.
Most of all I want to get out of bed, look in that mirror, and start feeling proud of myself again.
See you in 2 weeks.