It seems I have hit a plateau.
Although I'm more fit and muscular than I've ever been and don't step on the scale anymore as a rule (I'm trying to be all about how I feel and not numbers), I thought I'd step on the scale this morning out of curiousity...and lo and behold, after much fitness, shape improvement and months of working and learning to run 5Km 3 times a week I am still 134.
Still.
It goes without saying, I'd like to lose another 5-10 pounds, just to get rid of the last bits of wiggly jiggle, but I'm not going to beat myself up about it. It seems like I've come this far, why not do a bit more and finish it all up. And yet I don't want to get weird about it.
It is annoying tho. Maybe this is where I am to be and should leave it alone. I refuse to count calories or obsess over what I eat or what I exercise (other than to be sure I actually do it).
I enjoy running now 3 or 4 times a week for about 45 minutes. I'm trying to work yoga or some other muscle toning thing in there on a few of the other days too. And I'm eating well and healthier than I ever have. What else can a woman do I ask?
I can't live on skinless chicken breasts and broccoli all my life to maintain a goal weight...that's just not living :)
I like to EAT!
It's funny how the farther we progress the more we expect of ourselves.
I should just be happy I suppose.
See?
This is EXACTLY why I stopped using the scale in the first place...
4 comments:
I figure for myself that it took 10 years to put on, it might take 10 years to take off.
aka. patience young grasshopper. never give up the fight.
You know that some of that 134 pounds will be like, organs and bones and stuff.
The only reason I weight less is because I've been selling my bones and organs on eBay. (P.S. Anyone need an appendix?)
well for what it's worth I hit the same place from the other side and it looks similar but with less exercise. I'm ambivilent as well, but so far my thoughts have been along the lines of, health, happiness, then - does it matter? Is it really me who is concerned over increasing plumpness? Or just what I think I'm supposed to be? I don't have an answer for that by the way. But I wonder where my angst comes from, and a suspicious part of me thinks it's probably sexist, and a result of living in a patriarchal system.
In the meantime here's a useful phrase my friend taught me -
"Non se grasso - sono maniglie di amore."
[It's not fat - they're love handles]
Odd how pieces of writing seem to join to gether. You line about wiigle jiggle was preceeded by the words breasts in a quick scroll down.
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