My Pesky Little Battle

Growing up I was what most people would call thin. Not skinny thin or anorexic thin but just thin. From puberty to my sophomore year in college I stood at 5’ 3” and weighed in at less then 110 pounds. The summer after my sophomore year this all changed and the word “thick” was suddenly associated with my name. While I was thrilled at all the extra attention I was getting from dudes, my mom and her wallet weren’t thrilled. I was suddenly requesting additional funds for new clothes and she suddenly realized that my frame no longer fit within the “insert my mother’s maiden name” family size.

As my metabolism changed and the sudden weight gain that came along with it, the comments from my mom about how I was becoming more and more like the “insert my last name here” ‘s. That I had a “derriere” like Aunt so and so and that I need to be careful otherwise I’d get fat like Aunt xyz. None of these women are fat but were a lot bigger in height and size then my mom or her family. I scoffed at the warnings and would tell both my mom and her sister that I was fine and could loose the weight any time I wanted to. I wasn’t worried after all I’d always been “thin” and I just figured it was that freshman 15 that finally arrived late, it was all those biscuits I ate and all that sweet tea I drank because after all I was going to school in the Soufffff, home of the great pulled pork BBQ and Fried Chicken. In my case that freshman 15 was actually a sophomore 20 and as much as I though I’d loose it I never did.

After college I moved back home and started eating a lot healthier then I did at school, I eventually moved to D.C. and my eating habits remained the same although I hooked up with this crazy crew and my drinking habits increased. My weight battle with what I call the “pesky 10” started. I finally decided to do something about it and started my gym campaign. Since I worked as an onsite contractor for a government agency I was able to use their gym facilities everyday during lunch or after work. Hell I never had A LOT of work to do so taking an hour and a half at lunch time and hitting the gym was never a problem. 3 ½ years ago I moved over to doing the same type of work for a consulting firm, my commute doubled, my work load tripled and I stopped working out and since I had to drive to work was constantly in my car and gained 20 pounds. I’ve lost 10 of those 20 and am still battling to loose the last 10. I’m unhappy with my weight and know that I need to get it down before I get any older and it starts getting harder and harder.

My biggest issue is motivation. I’m lazy when it comes to the gym, I'd prefer not to work so hard there. My time is precious as it is and between work and my social life I barely have time for ME, let alone a gym routine which I’ve realized will be a ‘lifetime thing’ and not ‘just a loose those last pesky 10 pounds’ thing. I know this because I’ve been battling these last 10 pounds for the last 3 ½ years. Unfortunately my family thinks they’re trying to motivate me but instead it sounds like badgering and those methods I ignore. Last year I got home from visiting my mom and called her to say that I’d made the drive from NYC to D.C. safely hung up and began unpacking. My phone rings and it’s my mom.

Mom: You said you’re going to the gym.
Me: yeah I am at work
Mom: Well maybe you should get a trainer because whatever you’re doing it’s not working.
Me: Ok bye mom I’ll talk to you later.

This after I’d been going to the gym for four straight months. Those of you who read my old blog and this new one know that I can get really motivated and focused but the minute something else interferes with my gym focus I immediately fall of the wagon. I review it over and over in my mind and know that it’s a continuous battle because my heart isn’t into it, I haven’t gone over to the double digit wardrobe yet, I’m still on the cusp. Unfortunately knowing what lies ahead and that danger of going over that bridge hasn’t enabled me to get my heart into it and I’m not sure what will.