Numbers...

So this week has been really been challenging for me in respect to numbers. Particularly numbers that involve something about my body.

It all started with a picture that I thought made me look pregnant. Let me be very clear, I AM NOT PREGNANT! And yet in this particular photo I looked preggo. Yes, I know I was wearing a dress with an empire waist and yes, I know my back was arched because Larry was pulling me close to him, but still, I DON'T CARE! I think I looked pregnant and it threw me into a funk.

So I decided to weigh myself. BIG mistake! I've always weighed more than I look like I weigh. I've always worn a bigger size than people would guess. I don't know if I'm internally made of lead or what, but that's just the way I am. So Monday of this week, I walked over the clinic where I work and weighed myself.

The downward spiral quickly followed. I felt horrible about myself. I felt unattractive. I decided to do 60 minutes of cardio a day and eat no sugar and very few carbs. I was in a mild state of depression for the rest of Monday, but at least I went to the gym and ate better than I usually do.

Tuesday morning came and I was in a much better state of mind. I was determined. I was positive that I could meet my goals and not hate my life while I was getting into shape. I took a walk when I woke up, had a great breakfast, had a great mid-morning snack, and I was in great spirits. And then my dear friend Leah asked me to with her to the cafeteria so she could get some lunch. Suddenly I was in a foul mood. My frozen chicken enchilada suddenly seemed like mush. Leah asked if I was okay and said that I didn't seem to be very happy. I had been happy all morning. How could one walk through the cafeteria (which, by the way, doesn't have very appetizing food anyway) change my mood so severely?

I ate my frozen enchilada (after microwaving it of course) and have eaten well throughout this week. But I'm still disturbed by how my weight and my pant size can cause such reactions in me. It's not that I'm fat. And most of you wouldn't call me unattractive if you saw me in person. In fact, a lot of you would probably find me attractive. And it's not even that I'm unhealthy. I feel good and all of my checkups and blood work have been good. Still, for some reason, the numbers loom in my mind. I don't want to weigh as much as I do. I don't want to wear such a large size of pants. Yes, I know I have some extra weight on and I couldn't be a supermodel. But let's be serious, most of us will never look like our ideal. And I'm really okay with that. I just want to not dislike myself so much when I get on the scale or pull up my pants.