And it's super annoying and makes you kind of want to karate chop them in the face?
But then you finally get mad and give up on looking and just when you get the hang of being you, and working on that, you DO find someone, and all those annoying people were right, and you're simultaneously happy and want to karate chop them in the face even harder because then they get all smug about it?
(Please do not chop my face if you are sick of one or both of these. Just take comfort in knowing that I am quite ungraceful and inflict minor pain on myself through spazticness on a regular basis, so the universe is kind of karate chopping me for you already).
I've decided that, for me, ONEderland was very much the same.
I cried, I pouted, I sabotaged, I over-trained, I got super strict with my eating, I got mad that wasn't working and ate a whole pint of Ben and Jerry's. Twice. I threatened my scale every creative form of destruction I could come up with...
And then I finally got so frustrated with wanting that 1 SO BAD, that I was just... over it.
SO over it.
I had a big long talk with myself about how stupid I was being. Why did I care so much?
Me, the one who tells myself and others that the scale is a pretty lame way to track success at getting healthier and into shape, or thinner even.
The person who's gotten pretty obsessed with building muscle instead of just burning fat.
The person who was so proudly bragging about being in the smallest clothes I've worn since my junior year of college, despite weighing more, because that meant I have more muscle.
How does THAT person care so much about a number on a stupid scale?
They DON'T! That's how!!
So I stopped caring, or at least stopped caring that it was taking a lot longer than I wanted it to.
And guess what happened?
I stopped overanalyzing myself and everything I was doing.
When I stopped thinking so much about having less diet soda and more water it stopped occurring to me to have a diet soda in the first place, so I drank more water.
When I stopped constantly telling myself to not have any of the Valentine's candy in my office I had none, or 1 dark hershey kiss, because I wasn't thinking about candy, instead of thinking about it all damn day and either eating 12 peanut butter chocolate hearts (or wishing I had) and being mad about it.
When I stopped lecturing myself about how I needed to get more sleep I stopped laying in bed internally yelling at myself for not being asleep and actually got some. And had a nifty dream with a pagasus in it.
(I cannot draw pegasuses... pegasi?)
And then I lost 2 pounds.
From one day to the next.
And the scale has stayed there for 4 days, even with a couple meals out, and a day of eating out in the city on Saturday, and an early Valentine's celebration day out with the boyfriend on Sunday, and a really yummy snickerdoodle cookie yesterday.
It's official; I'm in ONEderland!!
But you know what's weirdest of all?
I'm not nearly as excited about it as I thought I'd be...
It's just another number on a scale, and scales aren't a particularly good measure of the success of all my hard work, so... it's nice.
It's really nice.
But it's nice like when the vending machine accidentally gives you two water bottles; exciting, but not THAT exciting.
It's not exciting like Publishers Clearing House knocking on my door with the balloons and the big check and the whole shebang exciting.
Frankly I'm a whole heck of a lot more excited, now, about the milestone that comes with the next 0.2 lbs I'll lose: 60lb lost total!
A whole 10lb more than I lost with SP last time around, when at the end I gave in to some pretty terrible habits to get there.
A whole 10lb more than I've ever lost before.
A whole 60lb less than where I started.
And even way more exciting than THAT?
I did push ups with THESE last night!!!! AT THE SAME TIME! And lived to tell the tale!
(That is not me, by the way. I'm sure I looked significantly less coordinated and about 27 times more amazed that my body was actually doing that. Also sweatier. MUCH sweatier.)
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