318

I'm putting the number out there.

318

That's my weight.

It's only a number.
It does not define me.
But.
It is too much.

I had my picture taken yesterday with a group of friends. It's happened before. I was showing it to my fella later and it occurred to me that while I was smiling and happy, I was a lot bigger than my friends. Even my head looked bigger and that weirded me out.

I threw away the stash of chocolates I had in the cupboard and when we went shopping, I got fruit instead of ice cream. Is going cold turkey on the sweets a bad thing? I don't think so. But it's scary.

Eating sweets is something I really like doing. I like the crunch of an M&M or the soft gooey middle of a brownie. I like the cold smooth texture of ice cream or the warm crumble of a cookie. I am a fan of sweets. My body is not.

I have low back pain. My feet and knees hurt. I have pain in my wrists and elbows, shoulders and hips. I don't run because it hurts. I don't jump or walk fast because it hurts. I snore and have digestive issues.  I am not particularly healthy. I have decent blood sugars at the moment but diabetes and heart disease were prominent in my mother. I am at high risk and have been diagnosed as 'borderline diabetic' before.

Why didn't I do something about it then? I don't know. I guess I didn't think it was that bad. Borderline is not actual I rationalized.

I can't do that to myself anymore.

I've never shared my weight before. It's a big fucking number and I'm not particularly stoked about it. So I gotta try and do something about it.

Last night, I lay in bed with my fella and believed him when he told me I was beautiful. I thought about the picture of me with the girls and of that number. And I promised myself to try.

Maybe if I have that number out there, out for others to see, I'll feel more likely to try and change it.

I don't want to change it because I feel like society hates the way I look or because Oprah thinks I can't wear a crop top. I don't want to change because I want to please someone else. I want to be healthy and live.

I've remembered what life can hold for me and I want to be around and run and jump and live the hell out of it.

318. Yes, it's a big number. But it is not ME.

First up, the sweets elimination. I will allow myself only one day per week of partaking in yummy things. Since my fella has this regimen (that he created for himself long ago) the chance of it being a bit easier to follow is high.

I've already cut back on carbohydrates because his diet calls for it* and that's been relatively easy. I still have toast in the morning with my coffee but I don't have to have it slathered with jam.

*I did NOT change my diet because he told me to, pressured me to or because he hid the bread. I recognize that it's not healthy to have carbs as the main source of food and consciously made the descision myself to cut them back. 

I'm not going to weigh myself freakishly often but enough to hold myself responsible. I have goals and they are not numbered.

I want to sit in an airplane seat and be comfortable. I want to sit in chair and not worry that my hips will spill over the sides. I want to cross my legs at the knee, not just the ankle. I want to run.

I may not always feel so positive about this and I recognize that. I may have days where that number is bigger than it is now. I just want to try. Really try. For me.