For want of a more eloquent description, I'm having an "Aaarghhh!!!" Day. I feel ready to explode! Literally! My dress is too tight. My favourite work dress, that I am wearing today, is pulling across the chest and is restrictive around my thighs. The dress that I bought in H&M in London during the summer, and fell in love with straight away. The dress I wear when I need a pick-me-up because it makes my waist look teeny-tiny. And now it looks misshapen on my body. The 'Me' of 6 months ago would not have been seen in public in a dress this close to potentially being ill-fitting. Old Me would look at women in clothes too small for them (the ones with muffin-tops etc.) and wonder why did they not just buy a size bigger. And now I know why. Because they're not supposed to be this size!!
It didn't start out this way. I was a UK6 through my teens, then a UK8 going into University, and UK10 leaving! I've fluctuated between 8 and 10 over the last few years, depending on the time of the sporting seasons, and now I am sitting at my desk, in a UK10 dress, and I can't breathe properly. I think I have finally reached breaking point.
I have a problem.
It's not going to fix itself. I feel like an addict that's been trying to wean myself off a harmful substance. It's not working. I need to go cold turkey. I can have a little bit of willpower, or flexible rules, or treats every now and then. Because "now and then" becomes Now. And Then More.
I used to smugly smirk to myself when people would complain about weight loss being "SOooo hard". Clearly, I thought, they just don't have my strength and willpower. I was so sure of myself. I never thought I'd become just like every other woman complaining about their figure. I thought I was different. So confident in my ability to avoid all temptations and train multiple times a day, I never saw the possiblity that my willpower could be finite.
Even over the last 6 months, as I've seen my curves develop, and hips expand, I was still sure that at some point, I'd reach a point where my willpower would kick back in of its own accord and I'd find myself rejecting sugary treats and choosing to wake an hour early to fit in some cardio. It's not going to happen though. Not by itself.
But my life has changed since I stopped the restrictions. I've gained a social circle and regular dates with friends, usually revolving around food in some way, shape or form. The Old Me would have avoided all of this. Would have preferred to go training rather than subject herself to unnecessary temptation. The workplace is a minefield of boxes of chocolates, home-baking and vending machines. Old Me would have easily said No, and felt ostracised for following the courage of her convictions. New Me likes fitting in. Likes doing the same things as the other girls. Likes missing training to have tea and biscuits with a girl friend. Likes missing training to meet an old school-friend for dinner. Likes having a semblance of Being Normal.
Can I balance the two? Or do I have to choose between the paths of a
* versus *
Something has to give.