I feel like I’m out of my weight loss funk. One way I know I’m back to my old self is that I’m willing to see what needs changing in my life and I’m not dreading what it will take to change.
For example, last week the thought has been marinating in my mind that it is easier to blame something or someone else for my weight issues than to take responsibility for them myself. It’s much easier to say, “It runs in my family.” or “I just have a slow metabolism.” or “I can’t run, because it will hurt my knees.”
Because, you see, if I blame my genetics or physical limitations then I am no longer responsible for my actions. It’s as if to say that I have no control in this area.
But what happens when I look at pictures of my family and notice that all the women were thin in their youth, or realize that when I jog a bit or push myself on the elliptical my body doesn’t hurt more than normal after a workout.
Hm… The foundation for my being overweight has just crumbled.
Suddenly I am faced with the possibility that I’ve been making excuses for my weight instead of taking responsibility for my own choices.
Yes, the women in both sides of my family have battled getting heavier after they had children or got older, but they were all thin growing up. Yes, I’ve noticed that a large meal sticks with me longer than with a friend who has a faster metabolism naturally. Yes, I am very sore the next day when I workout hard.
Yet, these situations are not unconquerable.
I can decided that I am going to be more careful about how much I eat and not settle into accepting that I’ll be an overweight, older woman.
I can decide that since my metabolism is slower than some I will have to eat a little less and exercise a little more to stay at a healthy weight.
I can push myself harder when exercising and realize that the pains are normal and not life threatening.
But first I must take responsibility. I must “face the music” and realize it’s no one’s fault but my own that put me at 231 lbs.
I pushed myself into the “obese” category after moving out on my own as an adult. I have ignored the signals my body sends telling me I’m full, or not even hungry, many times over the years. I have never exercised regularly, or ever pushed myself past a brisk walk when I did exercise.
Those were my choices. I must accept the fault as my own. Only after facing up to the truth and taking responsibility for my own actions can I begin to change.
My New Ending 