Fashionista Friday: Fat Brain

Courtesy of smokedsalmon; FreeDigitalPhotos.net

I've figured it out.  Finally.  I know what's wrong with me.

I've got Fat Brain.

Something in my head that tells me I'm disgusting.  That I'm weak, ugly, worthless.

It's full on Fat Brain.

It's that illness where the number on a scale sets the tone for the entire day.

It's that crazy brain cell that says, "You're up a pound - just eat everything in the house."

It's that nagging thought that I've got to figure out how to cover myself so I can take the kids to the pool.

As you may have guessed, the bikini readiness is at a standstill.  It's part physical, mostly mental.

It's Fat Brain.

I'm fighting Fat Brain every day, much more than I fight anything in the fridge. 

Fat Brain is telling me horrible things about myself, when in reality, a size 8 or 10 is not the worst thing in the world.  Who knew?

Fighting the Good Fight

I stopped weighing myself.

I started running 5 or 6 weeks ago.  I'm improving every time and I'm loving it.  It's "me."

I eat lots of vegetables.  I eat other things too...and I've always loved vegetables and eaten them in plenty, but I'm eating even more now.

Right before I started running, I put a pair of size 8 (not stretch) jeans on.  The button and buttonhole at the waist were about 2.5 inches apart and not budging.  I hung them on my closet door as a reminder.

About 3 weeks ago, I got into those jeans.  I previously could only wear my size 10 jeans and a pair of junior 13's.  This weekend, I tried on some smaller jeans. 
(They are junior size 11, but I don't know how to factor those things in with women's sizes since even when I was my smallest since having kids I wore a size 4 or 6, but still needed a 9 or 11 in junior?  weird sizing, I don't get it.)
The jeans are very tight.  I can button them but I can barely move.  They are on my door now, my next reminder.

I'm in a constant mode of reminding myself what God says about me.  "You are fearfully and wonderfully made."  I think how disappointed He must be when He hears all the things I say to myself about myself.  I am His kid; you know how mad you get when someone talks about your kid?  Imagine how He feels.

I've set new goals, keeping my self in mind.  How I work.  How I'm wired.  Here's the thing.  I like ice cream.  I like spaghetti.  Do I have to eat these things every day?  No.  (And I don't!..usually!)  But I want to eat them once a week.  I decided my goals have to be about doing not about not doing.  Make sense? 

My ultimate goal is to be running 5 to 10 miles most days of the week.  This will enable me to have an increased calorie intake without adding pounds, in theory.  First goal is a 5k...Father's Day in Baltimore.  Once I get there, I plan to increase my mileage by 1/4 mile a week (more if I can handle it, but I'm starting small.)

Fat Brain is curable, I'm sure of it.  The disease is working it's way out of me, slowly but surely.  Every day I don't weigh myself and every time I remember that my jeans size is not the size of my worth, I am winning.