It's
2012. Another year. That whole "time flies" thing is really starting to
piss me off. But it's not really the time flying, it passes at the same
rate it always did. It comes down to me rushing through life, stressing
about the tiniest of things and always wanting more than I have.
I'll be 30 this year. Yeah, yeah, I know, totally still young, but a milestone, nonetheless. My life is far from awful, but I still get stuck in the mindset that by this age, I thought I'd have/do/see more. I feel like I should have met more goals by now, and taken more risks. I constantly tell myself, "the time is now!" But the shy one inside says, "no, no, don't put yourself out there, you might get hurt, or worse! Fail!" So then I fail. And the cycle repeats.
Every year, I start the same way..."This year will be different!" But I give up. Every time. Thinking I've got time to kill. Over the last 3 or so years, I've been reminded time and time again that we don't, in fact, have time to kill. Life is short, nothing new there. Changing my thinking, that's the problem.
I want to be healthy and happy in 2012. So I have decided to do so.
From as early as I can remember, I have been self-conscious. I have hated my body. I'm always comparing and putting myself down. Hiding my body at every moment, never being proud of who I am. I make jokes about it most of the time...about the double-wide hips...the tree trunk legs...I laugh it off and I figure if I make fun of myself first, no one else can, or no one else has to, for that matter, because it's already been said.
I'm an emotional eater. And a foodie. A deadly combination, if you ask me. Someone who loves and enjoys food, but also loves to eat their feelings.
It's time to grow up. I want to feel beautiful, pretty and proud...I want to be a woman, not a shy little girl afraid to stand out in a crowd. I'm sick of wishing I had this body or that body. Constantly worrying that someone is going to notice the jiggle in my thighs that I forgot to cover for a day, the fat arms that are all I see in photographs, undressing and redressing in stores when trying on clothes with my back to the mirror the entire time, because my vision of myself makes me feel physically ill. Taking all that worrying and stress and swallowing it with a large Coke and massive plate of nachos. I think the turning point of 30 is just the time to do so.
My (first) goal, is to lose 40 pounds by July 12. I know I can do it, I've lost the weight before. But only time will tell if I'll sabotage myself, yet again. I'm going to do my best to commit to myself (and to Angie and Kristen and the rest of the internet).
The time is now. So I ordered pizza last night, ate 4 pieces, washed it down with Coke, and didn't let myself feel guilty, for today is a new day.
I'll be 30 this year. Yeah, yeah, I know, totally still young, but a milestone, nonetheless. My life is far from awful, but I still get stuck in the mindset that by this age, I thought I'd have/do/see more. I feel like I should have met more goals by now, and taken more risks. I constantly tell myself, "the time is now!" But the shy one inside says, "no, no, don't put yourself out there, you might get hurt, or worse! Fail!" So then I fail. And the cycle repeats.
Every year, I start the same way..."This year will be different!" But I give up. Every time. Thinking I've got time to kill. Over the last 3 or so years, I've been reminded time and time again that we don't, in fact, have time to kill. Life is short, nothing new there. Changing my thinking, that's the problem.
I want to be healthy and happy in 2012. So I have decided to do so.
From as early as I can remember, I have been self-conscious. I have hated my body. I'm always comparing and putting myself down. Hiding my body at every moment, never being proud of who I am. I make jokes about it most of the time...about the double-wide hips...the tree trunk legs...I laugh it off and I figure if I make fun of myself first, no one else can, or no one else has to, for that matter, because it's already been said.
I'm an emotional eater. And a foodie. A deadly combination, if you ask me. Someone who loves and enjoys food, but also loves to eat their feelings.
It's time to grow up. I want to feel beautiful, pretty and proud...I want to be a woman, not a shy little girl afraid to stand out in a crowd. I'm sick of wishing I had this body or that body. Constantly worrying that someone is going to notice the jiggle in my thighs that I forgot to cover for a day, the fat arms that are all I see in photographs, undressing and redressing in stores when trying on clothes with my back to the mirror the entire time, because my vision of myself makes me feel physically ill. Taking all that worrying and stress and swallowing it with a large Coke and massive plate of nachos. I think the turning point of 30 is just the time to do so.
My (first) goal, is to lose 40 pounds by July 12. I know I can do it, I've lost the weight before. But only time will tell if I'll sabotage myself, yet again. I'm going to do my best to commit to myself (and to Angie and Kristen and the rest of the internet).
The time is now. So I ordered pizza last night, ate 4 pieces, washed it down with Coke, and didn't let myself feel guilty, for today is a new day.
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