I’ve spent a lot of time angry today. And I’m not talking about weak, everyday frustration either: I mean blind, snarling fury.
My weight went up when I got measured today but, I’m pleased to say, that’s not what I’m so upset about. Frankly, I expected it because I know damn well that over the past week, despite the exercise, I’ve eaten far too much chocolate and way too many wine gums. Sugar. That stuff is a killer.
Anyway, I was angry because I knew that I’d cocked up. That I had forgotten the number one rule that, for me, leads my thoughts above all others:
All successes and foul ups are mine and I have to own them.
I was pissed because that’s not what I’ve done this week. I’ve let excuses guide me down the path I knew was only going to upset me later. I thought that I could ‘relax’ for a few days and slip back into old habits without consequences and, when those consequences reared up to bite me in my chunky arse, I was annoyed about that too.
Today at LEAP we talked about fats.
I swear, every time I come out of that room, despite the fun I have with the other girls, I want to pull everything out of the cupboards and fridge and toss it all in the bin. Nothing is safe to eat. Nothing. -_-
Again, the rational part of me knows that this is my knee-jerk reaction to understanding that my habits need to change still further, but it was still a(nother) rough wake up call. I thought I was doing quite well, but all this talk of mono-unsaturates, polyunsaturates, Omega 3 (and 6 and 9) made my head spin with how much I don’t know. Then we dived into triglycerides, cholesterol, saturated and trans-fats.
Let’s just say that the next time I shop, my usual list of items is going to get a HUGE overhaul.
But (!!!) and this is the important thing I have to keep telling myself: change is gradual. Doing things *bam!* all at once is just asking to fail because changing lifetime habits takes time. Also, I need to remember that I am doing good things and that the changes I’ve made so far are making a difference. Even if I can’t see them.
The one light in the day (as far as health and weight is concerned) was my time with Jit upstairs after the main session. That man made us work. He made us work haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaard! I haven’t sweated like that at the gym for ages and the burning in my arms and legs told me I was doing a good job. I remember growling at him and silently begging for a break, but he didn’t let up. Not for a moment.
And I’m grateful for that.
He spent the whole session talking to us, buoying us up, cheering us on and talking about how ‘we’ve come to far to quit.’ And that’s kinda how I feel right now.
I’ve done too much and it’s been too long to quit. It’s hard . . . of course it is . . . it’s hard because I’m working. Because I’m pushing myself. Because I’m not giving up. I have to remember that when the sweat is pouring off me and I feel like I can’t lift that weight for one more rep. It hurts because I’m trying, because I’m pushing, because I’m holding myself up to a new standard: a standard that has one simple motto:
I. Won’t. Quit.