So I’ve pretty much been hiding from this place after a lousy couple of weeks. Last Monday night I was spewing to find I’d gained 0.6kg (1.2lb). They had to move the slidey thing BACK UP. I was crushed.
For all my raving on about how "the scales don’t matter", all it takes is them not going my way for me to crumble. I took my card back from the weigh-lady and fled outside and promptly started crying.
It’s been a crazy, crazy week, with some extreme highs and lows and family happenings and work-related stresses, and I think it just took its toll on me. That gain felt to me like The End Of The World, I felt like my luck had finally run out and I was destined to stay this fat. I’d been so high, so full of hope and power, I think I was running on pure adrenaline at times. Then some non-diet things occurred and I fell in a heap. I just didn’t feel strong anymore. I felt like the whole past nine months was a fraud and the real me, the insecure, out of control, fearful me, was back.
I also discovered Crunchie McFlurry’s, and have eaten no less than three of them this week.
But while all that went on, I’ve been sticking to my gym regimen like clockwork. The weights program my friend designed for me really hammers me. I love it. It’s very challenging. No girly pink weights here, baby. I am seeing results already. My legs are amazingly strong, I guess that’s from lugging around my fat body for so long. I love the leg press, just coz I can press so damn much. Mwahaha. Even my weakling upper body is starting to get a bit of strength now, which is nice.
It alarms me to read of people vowing to do two hours of cardio a day in order to burn blubber. Do they really think they can keep that up? It’s all about finding something realistic and practical. And that gives results. I really wish I’d started the weights earlier. I’ve got more results in the past 6 weeks than I got from 6 months of endless cardio.
When I’m at that gym I feel so good about myself, I can see the changes in my body, I see how things are toning up and how I’m getting smaller. But that all goes to hell as soon as I get on that scale. I was so miserable last week, finally I had to get together with my friend (the one who set up my weights program) and she told me bluntly that the scales were going to be "pretty fucked up" for awhile, while I gained muscle and my body went through it’s "what the hell are you doing to me" phase. She told me I should get out the tape measure and forget about the scales altogether.
Sometimes I wonder why I bother with WW, coz it’s $16 a week to get weighed. But I fear if I don’t have that "oh god I gotta weigh on Monday" carrot dangling before me, I will be slack with my eating. But then I think about how that scale screws with my head, sometimes I think I should steer clear of it.
Bah. I don’t know what to do.
I think it’s all caught up with me this week, the enormity of the past 9 months and how much I’ve changed. I feel very tired and overwhelmed by how far I have to go. I feel burnt out. And tired. Very tired.
I’m very behind on emails. I’ve been in that dirty bitch of a mood so I thought I shouldn’t be writing back to people when I’m in that frame of mind. So I sincerely apologise.
Weigh-in tonight. I’ll try not to go crazy if I gain again. Can’t promise though.
Bah. I will get past this. Don’t go thinking I’m giving up or anything.