Like a lot of women, I’ve thought about my weight fairly often. I’m at a point in my life now where it’s less important than in used to be–in truth, I rarely ever weigh myself. I step on the scale only when my clothes start to feel uncomfortable. Then I assess how I got to where I am, think about what needs to change, and move on with my life.
Or, well–that’s what I do most of the time.
We’ve gone through a stressful period since Mike had to stop working in September. That led to lots of mindless eating of my feelings. (This is a very unhealthy habit that l’ll likely never break for good.) By the time we stopped reeling from that big change, the holidays were upon us. No point in trying to rein yourself in when all the once-a-year delights are just about to make their appearance.
So, when Christmas rolled around, I found myself in an all-too-familiar place. I was wearing sweats every day–not because I wanted to feel comfortable, but because all my other pants were too tight. That’s when I realized I had to make a choice: buy new pants, or get serious about returning to healthier habits.
I knew what buying new pants would mean. First, they’re just a temporary solution; you buy them thinking I’ll just wear these until I get back into my regular clothes. Then you realize you can’t wear the same pair of pants every day, so you buy another pair in the larger size. And maybe another. And those pants are so comfortable that you stop thinking about all the other clothes in your closet–and that weight you wanted to lose. Until, suddenly, those larger pants are also way too tight.
I decided I was not going down that road again. It doesn’t lead any place I want to be.
It’s now the first week of February and I’m well on the way to my goal, which is getting back to the bottom of what I think of as my healthy range. (Another difference between adult me and teenage me: I understand that weight fluctuates and a single number doesn’t mean much.) But the only way to get here was to step on the scale on a weekly basis and hold myself accountable for whatever I saw there–without being a harsh judge of myself when the number didn’t budge. I’m trying to think of that number as a measurement of my dedication to my well-being, not of my self-worth.
I’ve done two things to help myself along this journey. The first was downloading the My Fitness Pal app on my phone. I’ve used this app before, and it’s really useful for accountability. I write down everything I eat or drink. Simply pausing for a moment to think about how what I’m eating fits into my daily calorie budget makes me conscious of what I’m doing. I’m a grazer by nature–dinner is literally the only formal meal I eat. My Fitness Pal helps me see when a little bit of this and that crosses the line, since small bites never feel like a big deal. But I know myself well enough to realize that changing the way I eat just isn’t a long-term option.
I started off by giving myself a calorie allowance that would, supposedly, lead to a weight loss of one pound per week. That was simply too few calories for me–I was going over budget pretty much every day–so I bumped it up. I’m now shooting for half a pound per week. And, lo and behold, eating more food has actually led to losing weight more quickly. That’s because, when we don’t feed ourselves, our bodies start hunkering down and preparing for disaster. It’s been helpful to think of eating as a way of reassuring my body that everything’s just fine.
The second thing I’ve done is start thinking concretely about the relationship between exercise and calories. When I enter exercise into My Fitness Pal, it tells me how many calories I’ve burned and can, in theory, eat. Knowing that exercise leads to this direct result makes it easier to motivate myself to get moving. I don’t always eat those extra calories–exercising cuts my appetite, so I often eat less after I’ve gone to the gym. But knowing that I can eat what I want is really empowering. It makes this whole process feel like a series of choices–which it is. Not a punishment for bad behavior, but a choice to show up and do what’s best for myself.
And I do, of course, allow myself some room for flexibility. That’s another good part of being adult me: I know that no single day matters all that much. If I go over budget, I don’t beat myself up; I just try to balance it out down the road. The same goes for eating lightly; rather than seeing this as an accomplishment that has to be guarded, I view it as buying room for flexibility. Today is Super Bowl Sunday, and you can bet I’ll be enjoying some game day snacks.
Weight loss itself is a long game. Teenage me would have wept over the time it takes to get where I’m going–but if I get where I want to be over the next few months, I’ll consider that time well spent.
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