Epic Fail

Blogging is addictive.  When I first started this blog, I was faithful to post every day.  During the 2008 presidential election it served as my soap box.  It's where I posted pictures of the grandchildren and talked about my family, and recorded my trips down memory lane.  I'm afraid the blog suffered a little when Steve and I started dating, as I preferred spending time with my sweetheart over sitting at the computer.  Imagine that!!  Blogging also serves as a diary, of sorts, and with my failing memory these days, I like that events and feelings are documented somewhere, and though Whitney calls me narcissistic, I enjoy going back and reading about what was happening, and what I was feeling over the past few years.  


A little bit after the time I started this blog, I created a more private one to document my many attempts at weight loss.  I found other weight-loss blogs, and became cyber-friends with lots of other folks doing the same thing.  Reading their blogs was very motivational to me, and became an important part of my day.  Strangely enough, knowing that I would be posting about my day would often help me make better choices.  I had determined to always be truthful and never cover up or justify "failures".  I specifically remember one day wanting to eat a particularly yummy and sinful treat, but stopped myself, because I knew I would have to report it to my blogger friends.  And the feeling of victory that I had over the moment tasted sweeter than the treat would have!!  


My real-life friends have watched my struggles and have seen me go through multiple dress sizes over the past couple of years.  Up, down, and then up again.  It was easy to post to my blog when things were going well, but as it seemed everything was out of control, I simply stopped posting to that blog altogether.  It is part of the purging process that sometimes helps, but can be very discouraging when the only thing I can say is that I'm failing miserably.  The holidays are coming, and while one side of me defiantly says I'm not denying myself the enjoyment of all the delicious foods of the season, the other side of me (maybe my butt-side???) is shouting "Danger!!"  At any rate, the struggle continues.  For me it is a mind-over-matter thing, and part of the process is addressing the issue. A couple of months ago I posted to the other blog, and then this week I posted the following. 


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Monday, November 7, 2011


I close my eyes for just a second... and two months whiz by with lightning speed.  Another two months have passed, and nothing has changed.  Nothing, that is, except my frustration level is a bit higher than it was two months ago at my last post.  While shopping the other night, my sweet husband bought me a gorgeous pair of boots.  I had wanted some for a while.  I love the look of skinny girls with their jeans tucked into their knee-high boots.  I hadn't committed to buying any for myself, though, because I'm so short and dumpy, I know that I'll probably just look like a Weeble.  At any rate, my sweetheart had me trying on boots at Belk, and we found a pair that we both loved, (and they were 40% off!!!), so I brought them home.  I fully intended to wear them to church on Sunday, but only have one dress that I could get away with wearing brown.  (Most everything I own is black.)  I was doubtful that the dress would fit, since my mom bought it for me when I was at my lowest weight after (failed) lap-band surgery.  Oh. My. Goodness.  I donned the obligatory suck-me-up panties, the pantyhose, the half slip, and slid the dress over my head.  I got my arms through, and it sort of got stuck on my chest.  I wiggled and squirmed, trying to pull it on down.  The dress has a jacket, so I was hoping that the jacket would be able to cover a multitude of lumps and bumps.  However, I only got the hem of the dress below my butt cheeks... and I got stuck.  Couldn't go down, couldn't go up.  I was mortified.  My husband was out of town for the day.  My stepson and his children were visiting, but I was too ashamed to ask for help.  So I put the wiggle in reverse, and somehow got the dress back over my head.  And felt pretty discouraged.  Not only was I irritated at myself, because the dress no longer fit, I didn't get to wear my new boots.  ....sigh....  

If I had the time and the money, I think I would benefit more from a psychologist or a shrink than a dietitian or a gym membership.  It is all in my head.  Always has been.  On the way home from the mall, we stopped at the Krispy Kreme to get donuts for the grandchildren.  My husband asked me if I remembered the time that I was on a healthy eating kick and I rode for 30 minutes with a box of hot KK donuts on my lap and never touched a one.  He said "I don't know how you did it!"  I did it because I was mentally prepared, and had my mind made up that eating healthy was more important than indulging in my in-the-moment desire to eat hot donuts.  Where does that go?  How do I lose it?  

I don't blog here often because I have nothing positive to say.  I find myself gravitating to the blogs of people who are successful, rather than ones who whine all the time and never seem to get their act together and actually work the program.  So rather than be one of those whiners, I just don't blog at all.  Sad.  And more often than not, I don't even take the time to read the blogs that do inspire me.  Fail.  [end]

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It makes me sad to read that.  But there it is, for all it's pitiful truth.  Say a prayer for me, and for all your friends who struggle with this.  They may never admit it, but I'd venture to say more of your friends struggle with this issue than you realize.  Unlike alcohol or drugs, we can't just quit food cold-turkey.  We must eat.  And the mentality of "just one more bite" is as dangerous for us as "just one tiny drink" is for an alcoholic.  It is a mental problem on so many levels.  A real head game.  Psyching myself up and getting the motivational part of my brain on the same page as my intellectual brain is key.  But then when things don't go well, looking in the mirror, or trying on clothes, the brain screams "Failure!" and "You'll never be able to do it, so don't even bother to try!".  It's not pretty.  

So if you're one of the people who has overcome your struggle and now make healthy eating choices, or if you are one of the blessed who never had a problem with it, take the time today to encourage someone you know who is struggling.  We need to hear it.  We need to hear that we are worth the effort.  We need to know that someone believes in us, and thinks we are strong enough to do it.  

Don't look at us condescendingly when we choose fries instead of apple wedges.  In fact, don't say anything at all in the presence of food.  It's too late then.  Encourage and inspire us outside the kitchen or the restaurant. Then maybe we'll make better choices.  If you try to do this after I've already fixed my plate, it just reinforces the fact that I am a failure, and instead of stopping when I'm full, I'll clean my plate and go back for seconds.  After all, I'm a failure, doomed to be fat, so I might as well enjoy it. 

I miss my weight-loss blogger friends, and today I'm making a vow to go back and catch up with them.  See how they are doing.  And maybe, just maybe, I'll get motivated again to start making better choices.  Yes, the holidays are coming, and one of the great things about the season is the once-a-year delicious food.  I'm not going to be so silly as to claim I'll be abstaining.  But I am going to make a conscious effort to reduce the portion sizes of my favorite holiday foods. 

After all.  I've got new boots and a brown dress that I want to wear.  :-)