Distance

I’m not a marathoner. Never have been, and I’m not just talking about running.

I’ve always been a short-term kind of person. I know I’m not unique in that I want results now.

I knew when I started on this weight loss journey that I wouldn’t shed the weight overnight. I knew it would take me a long, long time to lose the 95 pounds I’ve gained over the past 2 and a half years. There would be long hours at the gym, a lot of weighing and journaling of food and times when I wouldn’t see the results despite working (literally) my ass off.

Days like today, hell weeks like this one, make me want to throw up my hands and get some chicken fingers and french fries for lunch and wash it all down with a cold, non lite, beer.

I guess it all started on Monday – I was getting ready to take a bath and against my better judgment I hopped on the scale, yes, at night, and shocker, wasn’t happy with the number. Then I caught a glimpse of myself, in all my naked glory, in the full length mirror on the door. Rationally I know I’m better off than when I started almost three months ago. I have a dorky spreadsheet that tracks my progress….29 pounds down, 4.5 points of BMI lost, but at times it’s hard to see it. Still, I tried to brush it off and move on. I went to spinning on Tuesday, and took last night off from the gym since I hadn’t had a day off from exercise in almost 10 days.

I made the mistake of weighing myself this morning – the number was lower than last Friday but it was a reminder…a reminder I still have roughly 65 more pounds to lose. Then I went into work, my hair down and freshly flat ironed, makeup carefully applied (I even wore lipstick!) and went to have my picture taken for our company directory.

Thanks to the wonders of digital photography, I got to see the pictures. My heart sank. Who is that fat girl? Why do I look like a contestant on RuPaul’s Drag Race?

There’s a part of me that now really wants to say screw it and eat whatever I want for lunch – maybe a fried chicken cutlet on crusty bread that’s been calling my name. Or a basket of chicken fingers. Maybe a cheese steak.

Then I remember tomorrow is weigh in, that I packed a salad, and that this is marathon, not a sprint.

So I need to brush off the bad picture. Remind myself that I’m in this for the long haul, and I can’t let one (or four) bad picture derail what I’ve accomplished.