Ah, the voice of truth that comes out of the mouths of babes. A four year old infomericalist in training asked me if I knew that my butt was big and then continued to point out all of my physical flaws after I attempted to share with her the Good News of Jesus Christ in Sunday school this morning. She then proceed to tell me all about this amazing strawberry cereal diet, she has already lost an amazing 4 pounds, and in my opinion, if she lost anymore she'd be as thick as vapor.
After a day of contemplation, two glasses of white wine, and a whole lot of belting Whitney Houston's "I'm Every Woman," I came to a realization and ordered pizza. The latter was due to depression disguised as acceptance and could-care-less-ness, and the former was a statement: "hell, yes, little girl who will remain in my head as the voice of reason, my ass is fat." Unfortunately for me, my addictions and gluttonous sin are as obvious as my waistline. If only I were skinny and addicted to exercise, raw food, and love-making the world would be a better place.
Another realization I came to this morning was that everyone in life will make their parents a scapegoat to blame for their flaws, even the non-genetic emotional dispositions to need explanation because the fact that we are human is never a good enough reason for anything. That little girl may grow up blaming her parents for her future failed attempts at replacing Susanne Somers on QVC. I blame my parents for my emotional eating. Which is total crap.
It's not their fault. They gave me ice cream when I was eight years old after a bad day. So what. They don't do that now. I do. It's all me. It's my decision.
I'm so exhausted from making empty promises (another thing that's not their fault, despite their 'you can do anything you put your mind to' lectures and promises of bright futures ahead). I'm tired of cheap optimism and sick of looking forward to the day I find redemption and break free from the body in which I have chosen to hide while I sit on the couch and dream some more. I think I am going to take it slow this time. No lofty promises, but no more quitting either. I deserve to give myself a chance. I know at least that much.
I keep having this same realization over and over again in my blog, and I'm sure if anyone actually reads this, you, my poor readers are sick of it to...
Okay, okay: Take it slow Katy. Goal for the week: sign up for one weekly fitness class at the Y and go for an entire session. No wimping out. No "Biting off more than I can chew" (especially in the dairy and baked good department. ha ha.) I can do that. Simple. Get some guts to get rid of the gut. Dammit. Why does this scare the hell out of me?
This post is inspiring and it reminds me of when I first started my weight loss journey. I'm an emotional eater who blamed my parents for being overweight, but I somehow managed to assign blame where it was due, take a close look at myself and lose 100lbs. Was my family responsible for teaching me poor eating habits and not regulating my diet? Absolutely. But I have to deal with the fall out from that and I'm no longer a victim and I'm in control of my life.
ReplyDeleteBest to you.