Losing It

Over the past seven years, I have lost a total of one hundred pounds.  The weight loss came in increments, first significant and jubilant, but eventually became grudging and small.  I'd work for weeks to find a loss of one or two pounds.  It was demoralizing and difficult and not helped by comments I received from people who'd known me for years, telling me I looked "sick" or giving me a hard time about watching what I ate, as if my desire to become more fit and healthy were a flashing beacon pointing to their own struggle with health and weight.  



An effective instrument of torture

 The thing is, I wasn't thrilled about having to work so hard to lose weight.  At first, I tried numerous fad diets, diet pills, whatever promised decent results without exercise.  From early childhood, I've always preferred a good book and solitude to running around outside.  My school memories are filled with being the very last person picked for teams during P.E. because, well, I stunk at any type of physical activity. 

Inevitably, I came to the realization that nothing was going to work for me but a healthy, low calorie diet and regular exercise.  And not just walking around a track, but honest to goodness cardio that made my heart pound and made me sweat:  My own personal definition of Hell.  Even now, after doing it for so many years and making it a part of my daily routine, I still hate exercise with a passion and have to talk myself into actually doing the routine each morning. 

So anyway, after the whole process of weight loss I feel much better about my looks, but have accepted that I'm never going to be satisfied or happy with my physical appearance.  When I look in a mirror, I don't see the weight that's been lost.  I see the lumps and bumps that remain and vow to work that much harder to get them gone.  In photos where the faces are hidden, I don't recognize myself right away.  It's usually after thinking the clothes look familiar that I realize it's me.  You might think that'd be a pleasant surprise, but it's a bit unnerving.  A friend of mine told me "You're skinny, but you still think like a fat girl."  I suppose she's right.  But if it helps keep me grounded, I suppose that's something I can live with.