This year has been unlike any other year of our lives. I’m not sure how yours is going, but as far as I’m concerned 2020 can go straight to hell. Damn! Can we just bury this thing in the yard and move forward? Ugh.
When the pandemic hit, I was blindsided with having to say goodbye to a job I loved at the best company I’ve ever worked for…but, being the scrappy girl I am, I quickly set about making a plan for how I was going to make the most of my time. We all saw how that went. It all tanked. Why? Because I’ve never been through a pandemic before and, well, it turns out I don’t handle isolation and global panic very well. At all.
For the last several months, I’ve been sort of….yessing myself. Don’t want to get dressed today? It’s okay, Dianne. Pandemic happens. Only want to eat chips today? It’s okay, girl. Pandemic happens. Don’t feel like moving off the couch? Hey, it’s a pandemic. Get the picture?
My clothes don’t fit right anymore. The weird funky things that used to happen to me when I only ever ate junk food are coming back…like itchy shins at bed time. I have no idea why that’s a thing for me, but it is. And it’s back. And I just feel GROSS. I feel bigger and I feel gross. And now I’ve realized…in trying to be all “hey, it’s okay” and gentle with myself (I’ve been telling myself it’s self-care to be indulgent), I’ve gained 44.7 pounds back.
That is ridiculous, y’all. I did that. In the name of “self care”. I indulged myself into a weight gain that is anything BUT self care. I neglected myself and told myself it was okay because it’s self care. LOL. I mean…what kind of jacked up thought process is that? Lordy!
So here’s the thing: I don’t want to indulge myself anymore. Clearly, I need to redefine what “self care” means to me before I gain back all of the 132 pounds I lost. But I also know this: self care does not mean to go all boot campy on myself and beat myself into oblivion trying to get rid of the weight I brought back. And it doesn’t mean spending even one second on chiding myself for the decisions I’ve made during one of the shittiest years ever. So what does it mean?
Well, this morning I crawled out of bed and got on the scale to face the consequences of what I’ve been doing. That’s how I know about that magical 44.7 pounds. And I put myself on a 3 day “pouch reset” plan. For gastric sleeve patients, that’s basically going back on liquids. So today I’ll have 3 protein shakes that will give me all the nutrition I need…and I’ll allow myself an iced coffee. My iced coffees don’t have any sugar in them except for literally 1 tablespoon of creamer…so they’re pretty harmless.
Another casualty of this self indulgent lifestyle: my house. It’s a mess. Every room is a mess. So this morning the dishwasher has been running non stop and I’ve put quite a few steps on my Fitbit putting things away and just…behaving like a responsible adult who gives a shit about her home. There have been quite a few times this morning where I’ve had to resist the urge to feel guilty about the state I’ve let everything fall into. I’ve already decided that I’m not going to get super down on myself for all of this, though, because…pandemic. While I no longer believe that laying around and eating crap is okay for me to do, I still say getting negative about what I did is not helpful.
Now that I’ve taken a good look at where I am it’s time to get busy. Not perfect, just busy. I’m not eating one more bit of crap. This might get tricky because there are cookies in my house. Lots of cookies. Christmas cookies. Gingerbread cookies. Shortbread cookies. Yep. Hubby has self control. Me, not so much.
For now, they’ll stay in the house. If I start giving them the side eye then they’ll have to go. But for now they can stay because my resolve to actually take care of myself is much stronger than my desire for a cookie.
I’ll keep updating as I lose the 44.7. We all know I know how to do it. LOL. I’ve done it a few times now, haven’t I? Funny how I thought self care was essentially packing on a bunch of weight so I’d have to work hard all over again. 🙂 That wasn’t self care. Thank God I had the realization before it got worse.
All of this has given me one other idea as well. Usually this time of year has me reviewing how I did with my New Years resolutions. I typically set 5 or 6 for myself and I enjoy checking in and seeing how I did by the end of the year. When I started trying to think of fresh ones for next year, I decided almost instantly that I will set only one resolution for 2021. Only one…and it’s a big one that I didn’t hit this year:
Hit 225 on the scale. That number means something to me. It’s not my goal weight, but it means something. And that will be my sole resolution for 2021.