I feel like tomorrow is my birthday…and not to get oddly philosophical on you…it kind of is. Two years ago, I took up almost half of the couch I’m sitting own right now, and I wrote a post. Yes, this post. While I’ll admit I don’t remember every detail of that day, I remember how bad that summer was and how with that much weight comes a lot of sweat, embarrassment, and frustration. I remember worrying about breaking a pew in church and having to scope out every room to figure out the logistics of where you could sit without smooshing someone or creating such a force while sitting on a couch that the people next to you were leaning on you.
There were many reasons why I ate so much. Sometimes it was because I was pushing down feelings, other times it was because it was the only thing that would make me happy. Other times it was much less depressing. I love going out to eat with people! A lot of my favorite memories of people are over meals, in fact most of my favorite memories of my family involve food. That’s just how I functioned. Also, food just tastes good. I love food, but I used to be obsessed with food. I would surround so much of my day around when and what I would eat. It was a sickness. It was unhealthy.
Now, I have scaled back on my relationship with food. I’ve recognized the impact it has on my health. I still love food, but I love my body even more.
Now, I love to exercise. Sure there are still days when I don’t want to run, but I miss it when I don’t. I still need to do more of it, and that’s a goal of mine for this next year.
So tomorrow morning, I’ll be stepping on the same scale in my kitchen that I have been for the past two years. It has seen me at my worst and at my best. No matter what happens, it will be a much different number from day one. See ya tomorrow.