You know when it just seems like everything is working against you? You finally almost have all your ducks in a row and then WHAM! A huge wave comes and almost drowns you, and when you finally surface and catch your breath, you see all of the ducks you've worked so hard on corralling ass-up, dead in the water.
That's how this week has felt. I am exaggerating, it's not like everything has crumbled to pieces. I have an awesome job and a partner in life that loves and supports me, an incredible family and friend group that has my back, the best little fur baby around, food on the table and a roof over my head. I am well aware I have it way better than most, and for that I am thankful.
That being said, I've been struggling for a few months now, and this week has really been the straw that causes the camel to become a paraplegic left shriveling in a sand dune somewhere in the Sahara. The combination of being overworked, exhausted, and stressed has left me with little more energy than it takes me to drag myself out of bed every morning and fight through another work day. Which means, you guessed it - exercise and eating right have been at the very bottom of my list of "To Do's" lately.
This hasn't been a problem until recently. I have been feeling very body positive and good about myself, despite putting on a few pounds in recent months. I bought another bikini this summer, one that is incredible and I seriously want to live in it because it makes me feel beautiful. I've controlled my nit picking and criticizing of myself from a day to day basis to just once in a while, which is a huge step for me who has always been so critical of every lump, bump, fold and imperfection. I know everyone has bad days, and mine have been few and far between.
Until recently.
I think, partially, my lack of scrutiny is due to the fact that I've been legit living in scrubs for the past few months, which are really just professional pajamas and are super flattering when it comes to hiding a little weight gain. I have been pulling 40+ hour work weeks, commuting to different sites to help cover vacancies, and getting home well after 8pm most nights. This leaves me just enough time to scarf down something quick and, often, microwaveable if I haven't already picked up something fast food related on the drive home. And then I collapse into bed, passing out well before The Mister gets home, and waking up early the next morning to do it all again, often substituting breakfast with the biggest coffee I can find at whatever drive through is on my commute. I haven't been weighing myself, tracking my progress, or sticking to anything that I know I should be. Because life happens, and no one is perfect.
The past few weeks, I have noticed that my scrubs have been fitting a little tighter, and that does not feel good, considering a few months ago I was almost ready to trade in for a smaller size. Last week, while in the middle of a patient intake at work, I began to feel light headed and nauseous. (I know what you're thinking - pregnant. Trust me, I work at Planned Parenthood... I'm not.) I hadn't really eaten much since lunch the day before, because I got stuck late at work and commuted an hour to get home, let out The Queen and passed out on the couch until The Mister came home to wake me up, at which point I stumbled up to bed and continued my coma. I ended up having to leave the the patient in the room halfway through intake, find my way into another exam room, and keep myself from passing out. Head between the knees, deep breaths, the usual routine. I used to pass out a lot when I was a kid so thankfully, I was aware of the signs, or else that would have been terrifying for the poor patient who was already stressed out about whatever was going on in her life.
Clearly, it was time to get my priorities in line. I started ushering all those little ducks back in a row - bought a whole bunch of healthy, whole foods from the store. Packed a gym bag. Started drinking less coffee, more water. Baby steps until after the weekend, where The Mister and I finally had some time off together for a wedding and we planned on taking full advantage.
I bought a dress at Torrid, my favorite store and place of part time employment. After the clearance price and my 40% employee discount, I paid around 25.00 for a gorgeous maxi dress I will wear again and again and again. However, I purchased a black dress, because all of the fun, floral, colored, patterned dresses made me feel like a walking couch. I hadn't realized how far I'd backslid, as most don't, until I'd tried on clothes. Thankfully I know I can always leave Torrid with something I love, so I didn't get too frustrated, but it only solidified the fact that I needed to start really making some changes again.
We get to the wedding, which was at a gorgeous, private venue on the Connecticut River in Southern Vermont. We drank and ate and danced and had an excellent time with old friends. We watched two people who love each other enter into union forever. We googly-eyed each other all evening, dreaming of the day when we finally get married. And we took pictures.
Now, obviously I am aware this is an excellent photograph. First of all, look at my arm candy. How can you not be smiling with that handsome gentleman next to you? Second, the scenery is GORGEOUS. One of my coworkers told me it looks like we went to Sears and got portraits done in front of a fake background because it is so picturesque. Third, clearly I am ecstatic to be there (and a few drinks in) so I have a huge smile and am having a great time. Which is the point of a wedding, after all.
I did not see this picture until after I got home from our weekend getaway, as one of my friends took it and sent it to me later on. Upon initial inspection, I was so happy with it. Overall, it is a gorgeous picture of a couple in love, having fun celebrating another couple in love.
And then the nit picking begins.
My hair is so flat. My eyebrows are out of control. Look how thick I am. Why am I holding my hand like that? Ugh, I'm lumpy. Look how big my arm looks.
It's always a picture that becomes your turning point. If you take a look back at the first post in this blog, that was my turning point picture for this whole weight loss journey. It's a picture I look at often to remind myself how far I've come, even if I'm not where I want to be yet. Even if I backslide and put on a few pounds, I know I will never go back to where I was in that first picture.
This picture is a turning point picture, but not in the same way. This one helped me see that, although I've put on a few pounds and have fallen out of my routine, it doesn't mean I can't still have fun. It doesn't mean I'm not beautiful, or that I don't get to experience love or happiness. It also doesn't mean that I can take that away from myself, as I did after picking apart this picture, because now all I see when I look at it is a lumpy lady in a black dress who hasn't been sticking to her goals and using the excuse that "life got in the way."
Which brings me back to Ms. Klum's quote at the opening of this post:
"I think you always need to try your best, but at the same time you can only do what you can do."
If sleeping until the last possible second I can in the morning because I worked a 12 hour shift the day before and skipping the gym is the best thing for me at this moment, great. Fine. Good. Is it forever? No, and I know that. If eating an entire pizza after I get home from work because I'm too exhausted to fix anything else is what I do once in a blue moon? Fine, I just can't make a habit out of it, as I have been lately. If walking The Queen when I get home for the 10 minute poop loop we do around our neighborhood is all the movement I get in a day other than running around at work, at least I'm moving.
"Don't beat yourself up about it."
Nothing is 100 percent. As long as you're giving your 100 percent from where you are, right now, that's all that matters. You get no where berating yourself for skipping the gym or eating that fried chicken or looking "lumpy" in a dress that everyone else thinks you look great in. The world beats on us all enough without our input.
Put up the gloves and fight the best you can.
