I think I must have reverse anorexia. By this, I mean, I think when I look in the mirror I see less than what I see. I also seem less than what I am. And, by this, I mean: when I walk by a space, or see the size of a chair, I think I am small enough to fit through it or sit on it. And then I see photographs. And then I say: omygoodness, is that the size I am? Most viewings become one of those: “O-wow” moments.
So… continuing on the umpteenth and one diet — which I so name bcz it’s the diet I repeat, stop, repeat, stop, repeat, stop… until I’m sick to death of saying or thinking I really ought to
go on a diet lose weight.
I had to make a dramatic assault and just “fast” a bit. It’s sort of the: “desperate times call for desperate measures” sort of dieting or eating (or not eating) pursuit. It’s the sort of resolve that comes along once in a very great while — the resolve to walk right on by the cookies and not eat a broken one. I mean, who are we kidding when we break off a piece of a cookie and think we’re going to just have that much? It’s the kind of resolve that made me pass the plate of pecan bars right on by last night. Had it been a “normal” day, I’d have taken one — well, you know: they were made by my neighbor and she did bring them over specially for us and she is seven months pregnant and she doesn’t bake that often and we were having Bible study and it was a nice evening and the squares were small and… and… and. And I passed them on by.
Many women battle weight. Or, really we think we do. But the reality is we don’t battle weight it’s that we don’t battle self. Self is the ugly glutton that only wants what self wants and doesn’t care what lies it has to tell or to what lengths it has to go to accommodate self. So, yes, we don’t have a weight or weightloss problem anymore than we have a speeding problem. We have a problem with eating too much, too often. And about speeding, that’s self just wanting to do what self wants to do no matter what the law says. But I’m thinking that the glutton self is harder to tame than the speeding self. There’s no policeman to curb the glutton or slap a ticket into the hand of the overeater and require the obese one to appear in court and be judged by a jury of peers. No… but self does play a very naughty trick. Self says: go ahead… you deserve it, you’re not so fat, you’ll lose weight, you’re not as bad as so-n-so, you’ve been “good” today (whatever that means!), yada yada yada. You da woman! And then… you give in and eat. Then self mercilessly mocks you and says you’re such a loser, such a poser, what kind of woman are you, anyway… such an incompetent bimbo — can’t you learn to control yourself?
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This post hit really, really close to home! I just got out of bed crying because my husband was honest with me. And what do I read here? Words to back it up. I feel unloved and unlovely but it’s all my own fault. Thanks for speaking the truth.