I’m on a terribly long flight to L.A. with no wi-fi, no food and a window seat. I feel trapped and antsy. The only media I have with me is the audio book version of “50 Shades of Grey.” Sad, I know, but after a few funny conversations during my recent girls’ weekend, I realized I may be the only woman in America who hasn’t read it.
So far all I can say is meh.
I can’t listen to it continuously (I just can’t) so I’ve been taking breaks, editing photos for GreenLiteBites and now writing this. I also had a great conversation with the man next to me who inquired about my food photos.
He asked why I was going to L.A. and I simply said, “work.”
I just didn’t feel like getting into the whole weight loss blog thing, which is not a good sign considering I’m going to L.A. to talk specifically about this “weight loss blog thing.”
Earlier today I had a great conversation with The Husband and it helped me realize the real reason I’m so nervous about this trip.
Have I told you I’m nervous about this trip?
I’m nervous about this trip.
Like really nervous.
It’s not the photo shoot or interview. It’s not even the recoding of a segment for a national talk show. I’m OK with all that. It’s scary, don’t get me wrong, but scary in a good, push-me-out-of-my-comfort-zone-yet-again kind of way. You guys know me, I thrive on “experiences.”
No, my fear is coming from the fact I don’t feel much like a weight-loss success story anymore.
I’ve been in maintenance for almost 9 years.
There was a time when I wanted EVERYBODY to know I lost 70 pounds. I wanted to scream it from the rooftops. I had to fight the urge to tell anyone who crossed my path. Not only did I want to tell them I wanted them to know how long it took me. How many years I yo-yo dieted. I wanted them to understand I was really a chubby, insecure girl on the inside.
I can easily remember those feelings without needing to re-read my own words on this blog, which I used to explore all those feelings through the years.
But I don’t feel those feelings anymore.
What’s the saying? Time heals all wounds?
I rode the weight loss roller coaster. After years and years of struggling with my body image, self-worth and disordered eating I was finally able to diet myself thin. Almost too thin.
Then, realizing I probably wouldn’t be able to maintain the loss through diet alone — plus I wasn’t really on a healthy path — I started to focus on fitness instead. I discovered I really was able to run despite what I was told. I found confidence in lifting weights. And I uncovered a love of challenging myself physically.
But here’s the thing, I don’t do those things to build a specific physique. I do them because they give me joy, sanity and a much needed outlet. I do them because I have two young boys and I want to be healthy and fit enough to explore the world with them. Bottom line: I do them because I feel better than when I don’t do them.
I can’t deny the change in my entire approach to life. Is there still a small part of me that wishes I was as thin as absolutely possible? Especially knowing I was approximately 15 pounds lighter than I am right now?
Yes. I can’t lie. My inner mean girl is completely obsessed with looking like a waifish runway model but my logical, fierce, confident, inner goddess (I had to say it — you got the reference if you read the book) knows better. She’s proud of me. Proud that my life doesn’t revolve counting every calorie all in the name of “thin.” Proud that I live consciously and balanced. Proud that I’m confident enough to continuously change and evolve.
I guess what I’m most nervous about is letting people down. I just don’t know if I’m comfortable living up to the weight loss success story expectations anymore.