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That Voice in Your Head

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I am fat.

I haven't always been.

I have almost always thought I was.

This isn't the first time in my life I have been.

This is the LARGEST I've ever been, though. . .

The handsome husband used to joke that it was because I finally got comfortable in our relationship. . . That this is the reason why I started gaining weight. He's probably right. I do see a correlation there!

Then, we quit smoking. I consciously gave myself permission to enjoy food again. Your sense of taste is so much more alive when you get rid of the cigarettes. If you haven't been through it, you may not fully grasp the significance of that! I rationalized that being a bit overweight would still be healthier than continuing to be a slave to the cancer sticks. I still believe this; therefore, in that department, I have no regrets.

Then, I became the handsome husband's wife last May, (our first anniversary is coming up on May 19!). It was a nice distraction, but certainly didn't help my growing waistline. Marrying him has been one of the best decisions of my life; therefore, I have no regrets there either.

Plus, let's set all excuses aside: I am a meat-and-potatoes-kind-of-a-gal. Sure, I like an occasional salad — but that salad has got to be loaded up with some kind of meat & a few yummy toppings in order to be even remotely edible. Bleu cheese dressing is my favorite, but I also like plain ol' balsamic vinegar with a bit of pepper & just a touch of seasoning salt.

Steak (medium rare, please!), potatoes (cooked just about any which way), grilled asparagus or zucchini, mushrooms (delicious!), pizza with the works (just no FRUIT on my pizza, please — that's only for dessert), HOT WINGS, just about any kind of Mexican food. . . This & so much more. It's all delicious. No meal is complete unless it has some kind of meat involved. I am just not satisfied otherwise.

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I like my food. I refuse to eat things that don't taste good to me. Life is too short for that bullshit. I can make a few compromises here & there & opt for a healthier version of some of my favorite foods from time to time . . . Water & black coffee instead of Dr. Pepper was one of those changes. . . Or whole wheat pastas instead of regular, (who would've thunk I like the wheat better, anyway?). . . Sure. Healthier swaps where I can. . . BUT,  I will not omit the things I love altogether. That is no way to live, if you ask me.

So what does this leave?

Getting active. I know, I know. I used to work in retail management, on my feet much of the day, at times working six days out of the week, often in excess of the typical 40-hour work-week. Hoisting fixtures & product around for floor-changes & trying to be in five places at once during the holiday season. . . That was my activity. Not to mention the fact that I smoked like a chimney & when given just enough time to chain smoke a few cigarettes or grab a quick bite to eat, usually it was the nicotine that won.

This was back during the time that I consistently ran out of money in between paychecks & things got so bad, I lived out of my car for nearly two years. Hmmm. Food until next pay-day? Or, enough cigarettes to get through? Yep. Those darn cancer sticks won that battle too!

It's no wonder I was able to slim down & keep it off quite a bit.

Don't get me wrong. The Lord did bless me with some CURVES. I am one of those lucky bitches that has an hour-glass figure — it just has some extra sand in it. . . I am not meant to be a buck-twenty-five. Hell! I am not even sure I should go quite as low as a buck-fifty either! But the — ahem! — more than 215-pounds that I last saw on the scale is the highest number I have ever had to come to terms with. . . And that was nearly four months ago, so Lord knows how much worse it really is by now!

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Now, with all that said, the handsome husband & I just recently found out that we're pregnant. Not quite six weeks along. Hello, pregnancy fatigue! Light-headedness & non-stop hunger also ail me — amongst other things that do not necessarily have anything to do with the fact that I am a fat ass.

I have been really hard on myself for not using the elliptical-like contraption that my husband bought me — at least not as often as I had hoped on even the most minimal of levels. . .  I beat myself up every time I put food into my mouth — whether it's last night's leftovers, an apple with peanut butter, or a homemade chocolate chip cookie. It just feels wrong to be eating so often — regardless of the amount — when I am obviously so very unhappy with my size already! Add insult to injury now that I take a nap (or two) in the middle of the day, when I was just starting to get pretty solid in my routine to get up at a decent hour, get a few things done, & still go to bed instead of being up half of the night! Whoo!

Even getting these thoughts out onto the screen is a task-and-a-half. . . My attention span is horrific right now. Hello, pregnancy brain! (Have you kept up with my bouncing around so far?) I can't even relax & read a book; my brain starts to wander & I can't remember more than a few sentences of what I've read. . .

So, what's a gal to do??

I've decided I am already doing it.

I will make healthier choices when I can. I will take a nap when I feel like I need one. I will eat when my body says it is necessary. And, when I am not so light-headed & tired all the time, that is when I will push a little harder to get on that elliptical-like contraption. Maybe in the meantime, the handsome husband & I can talk about working an evening walk into our routine, together — after it starts to cool down for the day.

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Other than that, what I really need to work on is my self-talk. . . You know, that voice in your head that only you can hear? It either puts you down or lifts you up. . . It is your worst critic & your biggest cheerleader, all rolled into one.  Lately, I have been talking to myself in ways I would never talk to my best of friends; that is not okay. I need to remember that I am the one with the control over that inner voice at any given moment of any given day. . .

Right now, I am growing a human inside of me. What else could be more awesome than that?! This is hard work! You may not be able to see it, but my body is working over-time right now. God has His plan & I need to just relax about all these other things. Progress is progress.

In 34 more weeks (or so), I will get to meet the fruits of my labor (pun intended!). . . And, if, in the meantime, I need to carry around a little extra of my own. . . Well, so be it.

For now. 😉

5 thoughts on “That Voice in Your Head”

  1. You know, you are the first person who ever got me to claim and own the word “fabulous” in regards to myself.

    That may be the reason I finally left a very unhealthy, abusive relationship– and has since become my watchword. If I don’t feel that I’m FABULOUS, then something is wrong and I need to figure out what and get it fixed. Sometimes I feel silly looking in the mirror before getting to work on something I’m not super stoked about and telling myself “You are fuckin FABULOUS, go do this thing” but it almost always works, because I remember you giving me that word, and everything it meant when you gave it to me while you were protecting me at work and in the process teaching me how to protect myself at home.

    The Black Friday we worked together until 2am, 16 hours straight, just enough time between endless streams of customers to grab a quick smoke and ridiculous amounts of coffee? That was the day I learned that I could still rise to any occasion. That was the day I reclaimed something inside me that I thought I had left behind in college– the sense that I was worth it, that I had something of value to offer the world.

    The time I got sick and you wouldn’t let me come back to work until I’d taken care of myself? Taught me that I was worth caring for. That I was FABULOUS, and if I wasn’t feeling FABULOUS then it was okay, even good, for me to seek help getting back to that place. That time Artem made me cry on the sales floor because he was preaching at me about gays going to hell while a lesbian couple held hands not 10 feet away, and you let me fight the battle, make the sale, and then gave me an extra break so I could lick my wounds and you said– I don’t know what, but something that made him apologize– to him, taught me that I was worth valuing, even if I am sometimes a little odd. The time I hung out with RJ in the back room until Debbie could come and get him, because we had to open and it was one of those mornings? Taught me how to do what you gotta do, even in the face of things looking tough. The times we sat on the counter and gave each other monthly check-ins? Taught me to aspire to be better than myself. To be fucking FABULOUS.

    So I don’t know what’s up with that little voice in your head, but please remember that it takes one to know one.

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