Tuesday, January 9, 2007

And so I bid farewell

The holidays are over (thank the Lord above) and Dustina and I started working out again yesterday. It was a really tough workout. She tried to work on the mental part of Kelly just as much as the physical and it took its toll. I love Dustina. She's a great person and will probably end up saving my life, but last night she really (whether intended or not) made me come to terms with some things. I actually had a hard time keeping it together during the workout. I ended up starting to cry shortly after she left so I took Lola for a walk so that I was forced to keep it together.

She asked me what our plan was; I thought "I really have no plan anymore." She asked me what she could do to help me; I thought "I really don't know how anyone can help me anymore." She asked if I ever say anything nice about myself, any positive affirmations; No, of course not. When would I fit that in with all the negativity I'm spewing? She asked me if I truly believe I can lose the weight; In a nutshell? No, I don't. I mean, I do SOMETIMES. I have those moments of divine inspiration when I feel as though I could conquer the world, but for the most part, after how many times I've failed or lost it only to gain it back, no. She told me that I'm not going to be able to do it until I BELIEVE I can do it. I felt defeated. She seemed so completely and utterly genuine in her desire to help me succeed at this that I don’t just feel like I’ve been failing MYSELF, but now I feel like I’ve been failing HER too.

The real clencher came when she told me that she should take my scale. I had actually CONSIDERED having her take it not that long ago and now that she had actually offered...I freaked out. I was like "Nooooo! Thursday, I'll give it to you Thursday." I was already having separation anxiety. I felt like I had to get on it just one more time before I could give it up. How sick is that? I've often thought that I would do so much better if I just went about my day eating what I needed to eat and not worrying about the number. That I would know I lost a good amount when people started noticing or clothes started fitting better and that I should just gauge it by that (which is essentially what she's trying to have me do), but I just could never get rid of the scale. I am controlled by the number. I know I shouldn't be, but I am. I have a sickness.

So Thursday it is. Thursday I bid farewell to my scale. I'm giving it to Dustina for a while. I really, in all honesty, will have withdrawls. I know it's silly and no one can comprehend it, but I'll be sneaking onto scales far and wide every chance I get. Down to mom and dad's? Scale. Over to my sister's? Scale. If I rejoin the gym (I'll keep you posted)? Scale. I won't be able to walk by one and NOT get on (Are you kidding me? There is a REASON she's taking it away), but I will at least not be on there 3 times a day. Yeah, you read that right, three. Not every day, but at least once a day…sometimes more. I don't know why. Sometimes it's to make sure I'm simply keeping it in check and not gaining and gaining and gaining. Other times it's with the hope that the number has actually gone down. I teeter totter back and forth between the same few pounds so much right now that I feel like I need to know if my teeter is overtaking my totter. Starting Thursday I'll have to find my balance another way…at least for a while.

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