Well, I went to the Doctor (General Practitioner) for a semi-annual checkup thing that I have to go to because they won’t give me my happy drugs (Celexa 20mg – SSRI.) And as always they do they measured my blood pressure, temperature and my weight…
I don’t own a scale and was, I guess, avoiding weighing myself to not fall in the trap of â€˜nickel and dimingâ€™ myself over how many pounds I weighed or lost. So basically, I was excited to see where I had gotten to over the last few weeks of weight loss/workout mode. I jumped up on the traditional looking scale and moved the weights to their appropriate position for the nurse.
I had gained 10 pounds since the last visit.
Gained? Ten pounds? You’re kidding right? I mean, I can see the difference in the shapes of my stomach, my sides, my face. Ten pounds? I can see the changes as clear as day! What the hell do you mean I gained ten pounds?
“Sometimes, when you start working out you gain weight because muscle weighs more than fat.”
(Know the truth, know the truth. Don’t let everything slip to shame and pain. You are on the right path, you are making headway.)
I know this isn’t a sign that I am going backwards and I know that because I am addressing my binge eating in a low-impact, compassionate way that I am going to change the way I look, the amount I weigh, I will be successful.
And one of the biggest habits I am changing is how I ‘see’ myself, how I see this body of mine. For the first time in my life I am starting to see it impartially as a outsider would see it, without judgement, without criticism. I just need to keep fighting this good fight and keep altering the ancient way that are my eating habits.
(But that voice is in my head, niggling at me, trying to drag me down.)