I Do Not Want To Fail

It's weird. I know I have been frustrated with my weight loss, and how slow it has been. Don't get me wrong - I've been pleased. I'm going down, I'm feeling and seeing the difference. But, like most people, I'm a little impatient. I'd like that 10 pounds per month loss that I feel like I should have, given the work and sacrifices I'm putting in.

When I count calories all week and bust butt on the treadmill, only to get on the scale and have it move a measly pound, it is disappointing. On the same token, I'm happy to have lost a pound and not stalled out. So I'm stuck between being thrilled and irritated. Ha!

Today, though, as I walked into work, aware of being lighter than I've been in a while (once again), I was pleased. I felt good. Satisfied with where I am. Happy to not be where I was. The 260's feel like the new normal to me. My new "start point" since I've already been here, lost it, only to lose it again. I rolled my stats over in my head.

February 2012: 292 pounds
February 2013: 267 pounds
Difference: 25 pounds

As much as I'd love to lose a heckton of weight before I turn 40 this year in the fall, I'd also like to keep this off FOR GOOD.

I reminded myself that if I kept on this trend, even losing slowly, I'd be down 25 pounds by next year, which would put me at 242 pounds. The next year, 217, the next - 195.

I must remember that is BETTER THAN WHERE I'VE BEEN. I have to keep that in my head.

I've given myself this speil before and have failed at it, landing right back where I was. Each time I was determined not to get back there. Each time. Does this one feel different?

Yes.

It does. I'm scared to say it because I'm afraid of being wrong. I'm afraid of failing. I don't want to say too much to the people in my life out of fear.

But the other day my son came over, put his arms around me and gave me a big hug. A comfortable hug. He tried to jerk me off the ground (he's not big enough for that). We didn't say much, but I had a thought that he had noticed my weight loss, and wanted to get his arms around me.

I do, too. I wanted the same thing.

My other son asked if I went to the gym and if that was going to be normal for me now.

I'm sad for the time that has gone by where I've been big, and unable to focus on myself. I'm really trying to delegate some of my responsibilities so that I'm not logged down so much, and I can focus some on myself. I'm trying to hand over some things to my husband. To let some things go.

My youngest will be in high school next year and I'm determined to be below this notch by then. I'm determined to start living better.

I do not want to fail.