I have commitment problems. I will admit it. The longest I have lived somewhere since 1990 has been 5 years. Maybe I will put down roots here on the Cape, but I don't want to commit. I am also NOT committing to restarting this blog or anything, but maybe I will have another round of it and send an update out in to cyber oblivion.
Since I started this blog, I have lost 33 pounds. Holy cow, right? I KNOW! I am happy about it, but it's a double edged happiness. I say this because I am mortified that I EVER got to the spot where I needed to lose 33 pounds. It's pretty embarrassing. I suppose in this instance, it could be said that I am a half-empty kind of person. What I am proud of is the fact this I got off the path I was traveling on and decided to do something different. Maybe it was because I was told by my doctor at my physical three weeks before I started CrossFit that I was in the high risk pool for adult on-set diabetes, but something told me to change my flight pattern and get back on track.
And so, here I am. A little over a year later and 33 pounds lighter. I have only dropped 1 clothing size. If you entered my height and my current weight in to the BMI scale, I would still be considered obese.
Half empty? Nope. This glass is half full.
Back in June we were given a workout that included deadlifting your body weight. I can remember the embarrassment that I felt when I read that workout. No WAY could I deadlift my body weight. Recently, a workout showed up where you had to deadlift your body weight once again. I couldn't wait to do the workout and simply lift my body weight. Granted, I have lost weight so the weight of the lift has gone down but even better- I could deadlift my OLD body weight! I could walk up to that bar and load the thing up with my old weight and easily pick it up-as a matter of fact, I can lift more than what I used to weigh.
The only numbers I think about these days in relation to my body are the weights I use in various lifts and how they keep going up. I am happy when a number goes up now, because it is no longer a number on the scale that is moving up.
I still put myself on the scale. I still think about the size jeans I wear, the size pants I am putting on. It's out there. We are inundated with it. But if I take the time to really sit back and think about it, I would tell you that those numbers don't matter. I will never be that skinny chick. It isn't in my genes. Perhaps my size won't change much from here. What will change is my physical condition...and with it my mental health. I can make that happen.
Would I like to lose 10 more pounds? Of course I would. Why? I don't know- because I guess I am stuck on that number. I have a bit more work to do before I am completely free of the stereotypes that are out there, but I think one of the most liberating things about this journey so far has been the gradual demise of my number fixation on a scale and in exchange a new number fixation on the amount of weight I can dead lift, power snatch or clean and jerk.
