Faltering

Not surprisingly, I'm feeling stymied with Atkins. When I was visiting my family last week, they all kept saying really kind things. I hadn't seen them since March, and both of my parents kept saying I'd lost a ton of weight and looked a lot better. Therefore I thought that, though feeble, my efforts with the Glycemic Impact diet and then Atkins had actually paid off.

Later that weekend, my mother and I went clothes shopping. It was so strange because almost everything I put on fit perfectly. It was flattering, and I didn't look as horrifyingly huge as I expected to, even in a 3-way store mirror. For the first time in a long time, I fit very comfortably into specific sizes (cringe-worthy still, but that is not the point), so I could pick things off the wrack, check out the shape, and know it would look good.

I was pleased and thinking finally, I was making progress in the War on Fat.

This week is a totally different story. I weighed myself this morning and was back up to 178. I was peering in the mirror wondering "Am I retaining water, or have I gained weight back?" This questioning drives me crazy, the doubting, the insecurity, and the unshakable belief that I was just deluding myself trying to lose weight with Atkins anyway.

My boyfriend (rightly) maintains that if I really want to lose weight, I need to exercise. He suggested slowly working carbs back into my diet and picking up some kind of aerobic activity. Unfortunately my gym membership just expired two days ago, and I purposefully did not renew it because I only went once in the past two years.

I understand the equation so clearly it's ridiculous:

weight loss = diet x exercise

I've said before (and recently) that as long as the exercise stays at zero, it will continue to produce zero as my weight loss result as well.

I own so many home exercise books and videos that I should surely be able to find something I enjoy, right? I have weights, I have a yoga mat, I have a big open floor in my apartment where I can do pilates or the NYC Ballet Workout... we even have an exercise bike taking up tons of space in the office, but I am loathe to work out here, from some combination of vanity (don't want my boyfriend to see me) and arrogance (don't want to admit to myself how badly out of shape I am).

I own three or four pairs of barely-used sneakers and a whole wardrobe full of never-used exercise clothing. At any time I choose, I could put some of that on, walk outside, and wander around this big city I inhabit. I even have roller blades I could take to the park.

So what is keeping me from this? Why do I patently refuse to do anything to improve myself or my condition?

I'm going to be leaving the country in something like two weeks. I'll have a suitcase full of new clothes in a shamefully large size, and my visions of traipsing along the streets glamorous and floating on air will more likely resemble waddling along on a squat frame, trudging about with thighs rubbing together, exhausted from the simple effort of going about my day and moving 60 extra pounds around everywhere I go.

It's not just struggling with my appearance, either. I do really worry about my health, my body, and my quality of life as a consequence of neglecting both. I don't want to find myself thinking about getting married or having children and still failing to reach a healthy weight. I don't want to be 40 or 50 and still telling myself "I used to be an athlete" or "When I was 17, I was really thin."

Why do I choose food and laziness over everything else? Why do I take what should be a sacred gift and abuse it as if I hate it? I don't like the person I am when I can't be bothered to exercise or when I make short-term decisions like "the flavor of this ice cream right now is more important than living to know my grandchildren."

I don't want to develop diabetes or heart trouble. I don't want to have a shortened lifespan because I have no self-control. What's more, I don't want to spend the rest of my life tired, struggling anytime I have to move my body, feeling weighed down and listless because I am so overweight.

I think this is enough whining. I'm painfully aware that everything I'm unhappy about is my own fault, and that the only person in the world who can help me out with this is me. I guess what I'm saying is, I'm mad at myself. I'm frustrated with the situation, and it's incredibly tempting right now to just say "Screw it," throw in the towel, and pig out the rest of the time I'm here since, yknow, how much could I possibly lose in two weeks anyway right?

I'm going to be disciplined and stop acting like a brat just because I'm having some set-backs. I hope that tomorrow I can start making some more productive changes in my life and get myself together already.