Ever since I started losing weight this time around (a couple of years ago now), I noticed myself playing with my fat. This sounds gross, but it's really not as bad as it seems. My skin that adapted and stretched between extreme weights lays like a deflated balloon that pools in pockets and folds up in weird shapes. I poke and prod at myself in the mirror trying to imagine what it would feel like to be some sort of “normal” weight. Or heck, to even just be simply “overweight” versus obese. I don't have any frame of reference for what that would look like, so I pretend.
The thing is, I don't look in the mirror most of the time and dislike what I see. I focus on positive things that I like, whether it be clothes or hair or makeup or whatever. The times I get upset with my body are when it doesn't physically react how I'd like it to. Perhaps after being on my feet a long time, they swell a little. It gives me a little glimpse of what would happen at 455 pounds. I remember my limit of being on my feet as being 5 minutes, not 5 hours. I remember the pain in my back where I would struggle to just stand up straight. I remember my skin feeling so tight because of how I tested its limits daily. The tightness would turn to an all-over ache, and sometimes go to tingling or throbbing. When I talk about the “before,” I physically start to grimace because I remember those feelings. My body felt like it was betraying me, and it was a direct result of me betraying it.
I get upset at the scale because it doesn't show me a number I decided I wanted. But I really should focus on how I'm treating my body. For the most part, I treat it with kindness and respect. The difference in how I treat my one body now versus how I used to treat it is huge.
I love this idea of treating your body as if it's the only body you have, but I want to also emphasize that I refuse to spend my life hating the only body I've got. I would encourage you to do the same. Spend that energy doing good things for it and it will repay you tenfold.
This seems like a random post, but it's actually as a result of a few non-scale victories I recognized the past could of weeks. I joined in on a Zumba session while wearing jeans, wedge heels and a blouse. Kicked off my shoes and just danced. There wasn't ever a doubt of “can I do this” or “what if I look stupid.” I just did it because I wanted to. About a week before that, I roamed around for hours at Ikea and Costco and didn't have pain in my feet, legs, or back. I realized that I don't dread workouts and actually have a bit of fun doing them. My body is responding to the good deeds I'm doing for it, which makes me want to continue them.
I'm tired and rambling but I just wanted to get this out there. Hopefully it makes sense.