Heavy

While I was perusing the endless world of On Demand searching for "something special" per request of Z, I saw a commercial for "Heavy," a new series on A&E.  In the same tradition of "Intervention" and "Hoarders," "Heavy" focuses on two individuals looking to save their lives by changing their eating and exercise habits.  

Rather than focus on weight loss surgeries (which I believe to be entirely necessary for some people, but that's another post), the show takes two people out of their lives for 30 days to work solely on retraining them in the areas of food and weight loss.  They employ trainers, dietitians, and therapists to ensure that all aspects are addressed.   There is no competition here.  No prizes to be won, other than getting life back.

So, I thought I'd take a peek.

I was very struck by Jodi (one of the participants) on the first show.  In the middle of exercising, she had a breakdown.  It's one that I have had time and time again.

You see, when I have started on this journey in the past, I have been excited about the beginning.  I go in with guns blazing, knowing that I am going to do it this time.  I am not going to fail.

Jodi was the same way, but she found herself stumbling over the same roadblock I have in the past: the expectation that you should be doing more.  It's the idea that you can take it off in an instant.  That you should be dropping pounds like sweat.  You have spent so much time ignoring yourself that you expect to be superwoman.  And you have watched so many episodes of "The Biggest Loser," that you believe it's completely normal to lose 8-10 pounds a week (not outside the highly regimented life of The Ranch, it's not).

For me, when that didn't happen before, I gave up.  I figured if I couldn't see immediate results, then it meant I had failed...again.  But this time, it's different.

And I have no idea why.

Ever since I had a Twitter conversation with Holli a couple of weeks ago, I have been trying to find the answer. I know my relationship with food is different, I just don't know why.  I know that I have stopped looking at it as "I only lost X pounds/ounces, whatever" this week and now think "Sweet!  Lighter than last week!," but again, I don't know why.

And, while I wait for that answer to come to me, I keep pressing on.  I look at how far I have come.  I am now six pants sizes and two shirt sizes smaller.  I play with my son, and he doesn't have to slow down.  I enjoy finding new ways to eat my old favorite foods, and I have discovered that I really do like to cook.

My journey is far from over.  But I no longer think I have miles and miles left to go.  I enjoy my small victories and know that I am making changes that will last a lifetime.  I know that I am teaching my son to have a healthy relationship with food and a love of being active.

As a check-in, I am almost halfway to the 30 pounds I wanted to lose before the cruise leaves in March.  WHEN I make it, I will be a total of 60 pounds lighter (which is the average weight of a 9 year old boy).

On the eve of the six month anniversary of the start of this journey, I am healthier and happier than I have been in such a long time.  I love me.  Not in the egotistical, narcissistic way.  But in the way that drives me to be better for myself.

In the end, maybe that's the answer.  Maybe it has to be about me first.

And now, it is.