Over the last several years, I’ve managed to reacquire much of the weight I lost back in 2003… you know, my magnificent achievement and all that jazz.  In fact, I must have lost and gained that same bunch of pounds a few times over during the last 7 years. I’ve eschewed carbs, I’ve counted Points, I’ve made half-hearted attempts at the gym and I’ve continuously, non-stop, talked about when I would reach my goal weight or how I would reach my goal weight, but the bottom line is… I never actually did anything about reaching my goal weight, at least, not with any results that stuck.

I’d like to say it’s because I’ve been so, so busy I’ve had no time for myself — believe me, I really would — but I have to admit: that’s a crock of crap.  There’s time if I make it. There are boundaries I can set with my work and my personal time. I don’t need to DVR every show on the planet. I don’t need to grab take-out, even if it’s Subway, because I’m too tired to grill a chicken breast.  And I’m tired of making excuses not to hang out with people I care about because deep down, I’m embarrassed about the shape I’m in and maybe moreso, ashamed about my failure.

Dun dun DUN. I said the F word. Failure. I lost 97lbs back in 2003 and I failed at keeping it all off. I failed. Failed, failed, failed. They say a fear of failure is the greatest motivator.  But what do you do when the fear of failure is no longer an incentive? What do you do when you’ve already failed? You could get the hell over it and remind yourself that failure is just a result of trying and not trying is worse than sucking. You could say failure is just a word to describe an experience that ultimately builds character and shows that, at the very least, you tried, right? Right?!

So, I’m accepting the failure. I think. I’m working on it anyway. I don’t think anyone welcomes failure, but I have never been one to not accomplish what I set out to achieve for myself. I’ve survived a lot of things, I’ve accomplished a lot of things, but this… this has been my albatross.  I want to let go of that initial “journey” of weight loss (ew, how touchy-feely). It’s been tough because I never reached my goal the first time… I made great strides, but I never actually got there.  My first experience on Weight Watchers was like a Chicago song from the 80′s: good for the first 3 minutes, then trailing on indulgently until fading out interminably.  In hindsight, I’ve been desperately grasping at the success of that first weight loss and well, it’s just over. That chapter is over. I’m almost a decade older, I’m a different person now and I need to start anew.

That first success/failure is a learning experience and a lesson in humility… because I seriously thought I would never go there again! (Oh no, not me!)  A fear I’ve had in losing weight is that I would be a statistic… gaining all my weight back and then some. I’m thankful I didn’t gain it all back — around half of it — but that half is enough to remind me that I need to do something about it. Believe me, I live on the top floor and after 4 flights of stairs I recall fondly my glory days as a size 12. (An aside: since when is 12 a plus-size, by the way?  I’m going to bust my ass to get to my goal weight and still be plus-size? How is that fair?)

I wasn’t going to blog this because it’s… well, rather mortifying… but this weekend, I was in a parking lot and a small child loudly exclaimed, about me, “WOW, mommy, that woman is FAT!” I don’t think I need to explain how I felt.  But if you think that I wished the earth would open it’s giant maw to swallow me and that I hoped that maw would be big enough to accommodate my massive ass, you would be in the ballpark.

I couldn’t be upset with the child. Kids are honest. He was only stating the obvious and while his mom admonished him for saying impolite things, the bottom line is, he’s right.  What am I supposed to do? Go home and cry about it?  Ok, yes, that’s exactly what I did, but then I pulled up my big girl panties (no pun intended) and decided that if I didn’t want children humiliating me in public, perhaps I should quit my whinging and do something about it already.  I refuse to be emotionally undone by a toddler.

I’m so tired of trying. It’s exhausting to spin your wheels. So, then what are my options? Stop trying, get a few dozen cats and become like that woman whose ass fused to the couch? Or shut my proverbial piehole and get on with it? What am I waiting for?  I feel like I’m always waiting for something — I’ll start on Monday, I’ll start on the 1st, I’ll start when I finish this client or that project.  SHUT UP AND JUST GET ON WITH IT.  Cripes.

“Failure is not falling down, but refusing to get up.” — Chinese proverb

I skipped the intro about not listening while operating a forklift or whatever, and got down to the business of relaxing. That part of the program was actually quite nice and similar to my own meditation techniques — when I remember to actually use them.  I was way into his soothing, guided affirmations when he said, “You do not want any fatty, greasy, salty, savory, crispy, fattening foods.  You choose to forego sweet, decadent, frosted, sugary, fattening foods.”

I actually started to get a little uncomfortable. First off, when you describe them like that, hell yes, I want them!  But what got me was his Scottish accent.  Every time he said “fattening foods” it came out “fottening feuds”, which kept pulling me out of my relaxation and making me squirmy. “You do not want any shugarrry, sweeet, crrrreeameh FOTTENING FEUDS.”

After a few giggles, I guess I got over it because I don’t remember anything after that for who knows how long until he said “You are now fully awake.”  That prompted me to open my eyes and I put my phone on the nightstand and immediately fell asleep.

I think I slept pretty well — I didn’t dream of Sean Connery like I thought I might.  But I woke up this morning wanting a grreeeasy, sallllty, saaavory, fottening mushroom quesadilla, so I guess it’s not working yet.