I’ve been majorly absent, I know. In fact, it’s been almost exactly a month since my last update and check-in.
I’ve consistently forgotten to take progress photos and measurements for the last month, and when I did step on the scale the other day it showed exactly zero pounds lost or gained, so it looks as if I’m maintaining. That being said, I feel like my body composition is slowly changing for the better so scale be damned!!
I’m hoping to get my life together this week/weekend and get those photos and measurements done.
Some of you may be getting curious about the title of this post since none of what I’ve said so far lends itself to any type of desperation. Well, let me just tell you the last couple weeks have been a bit of a body image roller coaster – which is common when you’re me. Approximately two weeks ago I began drafting a post about how desperate I was for weight loss to magically happen to me. I was going to go on and on about how it’s just so hard and it’s just so unfair that starving oneself and pushing one’s body to its limits seemed to come so easily to others and not me. And so that happened for a couple days and then I sort of got over it and was like, “Hey, Jess, that’s silly. You know it’s all about consistency in good habits and experimentation with exercise routine and finding your sweet spot with a calorie deficit. Don’t be a whiner.” And I was like, Oh yeah, duh. And then… THEN… this kind of amazing thing happened last weekend. I sort of realized that… I’m actually okay with myself.
Whooooaaa. I know, right?
Friday night I went out and I didn’t really think about my size or my weight and what my body looked like at all. Then Saturday I went to the pool for two hours and, at first, when I was getting ready I was kind of stressing about what my body looked like in my swimsuit, but then sort of said, “Fuck it” and just threw on what felt most physically comfortable instead of aesthetically comfortable and by the time I got to the pool I didn’t even think once about what my body looked like in that swimsuit or if anyone else was paying any attention to me. I was just enjoying myself.
I took a little time to reflect on that the other night and one of the questions that popped into my head was, “…so does that mean this goal of purposeful weight loss you’re working toward isn’t really a necessary goal anymore?” But I think it is. And maybe “necessary” isn’t the correct word in this case, but perhaps “important” is a better choice. Having a weight loss goal that I’m choosing to work on over the next 12-18 months is an important goal for me to have for the following reasons: lowering my body fat percentage is a major factor for maintaining and improving my heart health, primarily in lowering my triglyceride and LDL cholesterol levels, and keeping my hormone levels healthy and stable. Plus, regular, consistent exercise is the very best thing I can do to regulate my depression and anxiety.
So really what being okay with my current size/weight/shape/whatever allows me to do is, for the first time basically ever, accomplish sustainable weight loss because I want to take care of and love myself, not because I hate myself.