I owe you an apology. Well, two really. The first will be for the cliché that follows. The second is for taking you for granted.
You’re not ill. Well, at least I’m pretty sure you’re not, but I know you’re not right either. You’re not right because I had stopped caring. I made you sit on the sofa while I wallowed. I parked us at the desk for the whole day and avoided walking anywhere because, well, I’ve caught sight of us in the mirror. I’ve stuffed you full of junk food for a silly amount of time, knowing full well that it isn’t helping.
Every time I have caught sight of you in the mirror, I’ve mentally beat you up. Your eyes seem to have disappeared into your now pudgy cheeks. Your side profile is wide. Your skin has broken out badly. I’ve called you the traitor, but really, I think it is me. You’ve made the best of what I’ve given you – processed junk with little nutritional value, and kept you indoors, out from the fresh air, and away from other people. The paranoia that has come with all of this means that I constantly think people judge you. Hell, I have judged you. I haven’t valued you.
But I wanted to let you know that things are changing. Friday just gone, instead of making a song and dance about new leaves and all that jazz, I decided to stop. We’re going back to more whole foods and homecooked meals and turning away from the junk. Saturday morning, I stepped on the scales and saw the highest number I’ve ever seen. Later that day, I bought the biggest size jeans I’ve ever bought. But I’ve decided to stop beating you up.
You’re better than that.
You always make the best of a bad situation. And we will have bad situations ahead. Giving up the junk food is going to be hard, especially after the free rein we’ve had. Exercise is going to be hard, but we’ll remember that there was a time when we enjoyed it, and that will come again. You’re going to change, and not all of it will be for the better – I worry especially about the amount of loose skin, but we can deal with that.
There will be plateaus, life, stress, celebrations and excuses, but we’re aiming for consistency and progress, not perfection. This time, we’re not rushing it – I’m not going to shake up the food and demand 5 days a week of exercise. I can’t sustain us like that – it just gets too much. And you’re still struggling to get over the sprained ankle from March.
I’ve also decided to try and make this a bit more fun. If there is something I have realised, it’s that we have missed life. As our first outing in the hope of being more fun, I signed up us to Run or Dye at Great Fulford. I’d signed us up for it ages and ages ago, working on the premise that (obviously) we’d be on Week 9 of Couch to 5k again. Clearly that hasn’t been the case. I had all but decided to pull out, but I’ve since decided “what the hell” and will be digging out a white t-shirt specially. Don’t worry, we’re not going to run it – we’re there purely for the colour! It’s going to make a hell of a #TransformationTuesday photo one day!
So I guess what I’m trying to say, aside from sorry, is that I believe in us. We are going to make it.
Love, me xx