My birthday was just short of two weeks ago (belated presents will be accepted) and I am now a year older, but probably not wiser. I enjoy birthdays, probably too much, and while I would prefer to celebrate my birthday for the whole month of September, this year I settled for just one weekend instead. I ate a lot of cake, scarfed down a large plate of spaghetti and threw caution to the wind in regards to my diet, and let me tell you, I’m paying for it now. Frankly, I don’t recall eating a single vegetable. I didn’t go to the gym, I didn’t meal prep, and I didn’t count my calories.
I ate and ate and ate.
Now, this wouldn’t be a big issue had I celebrated that weekend and then bright and early Monday morning picked up my routine again, and I wish I could tell you that’s what happened….but it isn’t. I continued to eat, and lay around, and not go to the gym. I acquired a cold (stupid kids) and used this as my grand excuse to curl up under my weighted blanket and eat my weight in candy and cough drops.
Why am I telling you all this? Great question. Let me tell you.
I went to the Casting Crowns concert on Sunday night here in Billings. IT WAS GREAT! My mom and I got there early, were the first in line, grabbed some popcorn and a drink and headed to our seats, which were in the perfect location for my anxiety; not to high, not to low. Mom casually plopped down in seat 7 and I began to sit down onto seat 8 only to find I didn’t fit.
I DIDN’T FIT YOU GUYS.
Granted, these seats are stupid small but my big butt landed right on the arm rest of my seat. I turned around and tried to move the arm rests up but how convenient, they don’t flipping move. At this point, mom was stifling her giggles as I maneuvered myself into this chair, hoping no one was watching. Eventually I found that I could sit on the end of the chair and slink myself back into it, but I praised Jesus for the moments in the concert where I could stand up and stretch out.
I wanted to die.
I have never not fit into a chair. Sure, I don’t fit into most carnival rides, and the booths at Texas Roadhouse dig into my belly, but I have NEVER not fit! (I mean, I did eventually squeeze myself into the chair, but I’m still counting it as not fitting).
My point in all of this is 1. to publicly embarrass myself as a punishment for falling off the wagon and 2. be able to look back on this in a few years when I do fit into those awful chairs and be proud of where I’ve come. I went to the gym yesterday and worked harder than I have in months (thank you tiny chair) and I feel great! Lets get back to it!
I am still down almost 30 pounds from my starting date in April and I am SO glad! I don’t look 30 pounds lighter, and I really don’t feel 30 pounds lighter, but when I pick up a 30 pound weight it sure is heavy.
Working out and eating right is hard. Getting fat is easy.
I think in a weight loss journey it can be so easy to punish ourselves for our mishaps and use them as reasons to continue to give in to cravings and laziness. Instead, we should accept our mistakes and encourage ourselves to get back up, put the cake down, and head to the gym. Life is full of ups and downs and there will be plenty more weekends where I over indulge and hate myself for it. But I’m not doing this to be perfect, I’m doing this to be healthy.
I have 25 days until my big Denver trip and I am going to make this my best 25 days yet!