I fully admit that I am being blog blocked by life and children. Lack of time and energy has sucked all the funny out of me. If only it were that easy to suck the fat out! That's what summer has been to me - lipo for my funny! But I am here today ready to entertain and enthrall the masses so buckle up buttercup!
Ok, back to the mantras!
Thinking thin mantra #6:
Exercise is not your enemy. Fear of it is.
The thinner part of me nods her head up and down vigorously shouting "Yes! This is so true!!", while the never dormant fat girl in me says "Seriously? Exercise was created by Satan and since God hates Satan and wants me to be happy, maybe I should trade in the soy yogurt I am currently choking down for a soft fluffy donut!". Cause we all know Jesus loves me, this I know, for the bible tells me so. And I am pretty sure baby Jesus doesn't want me miserable and hungry. On the flip side, my ass is sick of having its own zip code and my stomach is permanently lined with scars from tight jeans of years past, so exercise is a necessary evil.
I don't think it was ever exercise I was really afraid of, it was the fear of not living through it and making an ass out of myself. I set all these mental limitations for myself and as the years went by, the limitation list grew longer as my will and motivation further faltered. Pretty soon I was every fat woman in the gym that wouldn't run on a treadmill because I was certain that everybody in the gym was pointing and laughing at the fat girl and her jiggling cellulite. As if they were all size 6 supermodels with nothing else to do with their day. And if they did point and laugh, why did I really care? Wasn't the fact that I was there testament to my will to succeed in the world of less fatassedness?
I admit, I was a gym going short-timer. When I set my New Years resolution to lose weight, or went through my ok-this-is-enough-and-I-am-going-to-go-to-the-gym-everyday-until-I-drop-a-gazillion-pant-sizes phases, I was like a motivational speaker for all the women who start something that they never quite finish. I would start out going to the gym everyday. For like a week. Then I would rationalize cutting it back to 4 days a week by saying I didn't want to burn out. Week three excuses ranged from "I'm not losing enough weight because I am gaining too much muscle from working out too much" to "I have a hangnail and it hurts to lift the dumbbells". Eventually, you trade in strength training and cardio workouts for 8 oz curls of Coors Light on the couch while scarfing down a bag of Lays potato chips and an entire container of chip dip while you ponder why it is that the world is conspiring against your will to be thin.
I don't know if it was necessarily a fear of exercise as much as a fear of failure that kept me off that treadmill. I loved exercising, and I loved the way I felt when I was done, but I guess in the back of my mind there was this nagging bitch that beat it into my brain that I just couldn't do it. She was about as subtle as a hammer to the back of my skull in reminding me that if I hadn't done it yet, what made me think I could do it this time? So I gave up. Because I was weak and afraid. That scary little bitch feeding me oodles of negative energy was like a back alley crackhead who wanted to beat me over the head with a two by four and steal my dignity. And for years, I let my fear of running into her defeat me.
Even today, 70 pounds later, running three times a week, working out like it's my full-time job, I still hear her screaming at me from blocks away. And somedays I almost give in and hide. But then I remember that I am stronger than her now and I am pretty sure I can take her. The fear used to be what distracted me from the goal, but now that same fear is my constant motivator. Because this time it isn't fear of getting to where I need to be, it's fear of ending up back where I started. And I know everyone says they will never end up in that place again, but I intend to be one of the elite few who means it.
So suck on that back alley fat bitch.