Sabotage/Submarines/Serafina

I made a delicious, sweet, crispy bowl of popcorn today, popped in pure virgin coconut oil It was fantastic and I ate a ton of it. Weight Watchers be darned! I knew what I was doing for the first time. I was not just crunching on some of the best popcorn I ever had, I was making sure I didn’t lose any more weight.

I’m nine pounds away from my goal weight. I’m tall, so it’s 169 pounds. I now weight 178. I weighed 207 and I was, as precious T says, “Hiding under a mound of fat.” We go to Weight Watchers together and she lost four pounds last week. I lost .8, which B considerately pointed out to me, “is a glass of water.”

So, what’s the deal with this popcorn? It’s obviously self-sabotage. But why? I think this is one of the whys: What if I lose all this weight and my life doesn’t change? What if it all stays the same? I’m 35, cute enough but not as cute as the “older” girls who take gymnastics at Small’s old studio. When I’m overweight, and alone, no one opens doors for me. I don’t get at lot of smiles from strangers. I would like that back. But what if nothing changes? It’s not just the pounds on a scale that I hope to change.

B wants me to do kettlebells most everyday. According to one of his gurus, Kettlebells and push-ups or weighted squats and push-ups are the easiest way to take off fat. I could do this. It would speed things up considerably: Weights are like that. I would look sleeker, muscle burns more calories than fat. Would it solve anything? Would he and I still fight? Would he be satisfied with just that short routine? He says he wants me to do it for himself, not for me. Do I even know what that looks like? Am I brave enough to find out?

Yoga is a very good thing for me. It stretches me out, gets out the kinks in my lower back and heals my left shoulder (injury sustained by sleeping awkwardly in a van back in 2001.) when I do it consistently. Do I do it every day? No. According to something I read someone at my level should be practicing three times a week. I believe them, I’m honestly just not truly ready to commit.

It’s all like having triplets. I have three things I want to do most everyday and it feels like too much. In reality, it’s not. Weight Watchers does take about an half an hour a day. Kettlebelling? Probably twenty minutes. Yoga? Between 15-50 minutes. I have that much time. I’m a writer and I work at home. But still, I don’t really want to do it because I do not want to be strong, sleek and powerful. I want to be kinda tubby, a good-enough mama and a good-enough person. If I wanted to do more, I honestly would. The evidence says that I do not.

I am reminded of a writing contact T gave me. I could have written for her friend’s magazine. I was too shy and I didn’t do it. Or at least that was my excuse. Reflecting back, years later, I believe I just didn’t want to do so. If I did I would have pursued it and would have done a fantastic job. I thought I wanted it, but I didn’t want it badly enough. Blew it.

I used to believe that the person who is unhappy single will be an unhappy spouse. B completely changed my mind. After we got married, I was still a slave to my moods (not diagnosed with bipolar yet) but he was mostly happy and said to a friend, “it’s like all those years of loneliness have been washed away.” I can be the moody one or the thankful one as far as this great big change happens to me. I do not know which one I will be.

P.S. I get to babysit today! LS is watching Small during my parent teacher’s conference and I am watching her son during his. It’s a thrill, really, to have someone trust me enough to watch her kid. LS is an easy person to do things for, and she is generous. Can I praise God for this? I’ll even share my popcorn.

P.P.S. The title of this post doesn’t mean anything of substance. Or at all.

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