I have had the stupidest day trying to plan out my life for 2018.
Really, my intention was to plan out My Triumphant and Glorious Rise to Power (2018 edition) but the thing is, I’ve been off the keto diet for two weeks and have ate all the carbs, all the chocolate and my weight in cheese twice over and now I feel horrendous.
I’m also suffering from something I have dubbed post-jetlag, which is when you don’t actually adjust to your new (or in my case regular) time zone because there is no reason to get up in the morning so you just stay up until 4am and then wake up whenever because real life isn’t happening and you don’t have to adjust.
I guess I’m both post-ketoed and post-jetlagged.
So today after hours spent writing in my journal, falling down the YouTube rabbit hole, journaling again and getting distracted by other things too mundane to recall, I have come up with exactly ONE resolution: Lose the goddamn weight once and for all.
For what it’s worth, I also resolved to figure out the other resolutions before the end of the month but during this epic battle to try and figure out my grand plan every cell in my body was crying out for proper rest and nutrition so that was the best I could do.
Don’t get me wrong, I do want 2018 to be better than last year, but that’s a pretty low bar to jump over.
I mostly just want things to be different than they have been, which is why I also told myself I wouldn’t plot My Triumphant and Glorious Rise to Power: I have this habit of setting totally unachievable goals, and never following through with them, sending my self-esteem tumbling to ever-lower depths. Is it an alcoholic thing? Probably.
Based on reading old journals I brought back with me from Canada, my weight has always made me feel bad. I’m not the kind of person who has struggled with being overweight from childhood; in fact, I was quite athletic when I was younger.
It was only when – shock, surprise – I started drinking too much (read: University) that it crept up. I laugh at 20 year old me who was horrified to discover that I had “ballooned” to 150lbs. THAT IS 50lbs LIGHTER THAN WHAT I WEIGH NOW. Every journal I have read, my weight has bothered me.
That’s almost 20 years worth of journals… and it’s still bothering me.
What bothers me more is that I know I drank because of my weight. Alcohol, the magical self-esteem potion, eased my discomfort on social nights out and helped me to forget that I hated the fat lady clothes that I was in. They weren’t “me”, but they fit.
But, you know, it’s so much easier to drink then to go to the gym so that’s what I did.
Well fuck that.
Fortunately, I made the decision to get serious about my health before Christmas, and had lost 4kg prior to Holiday Binge Mode. I have since found 2 of those kilos again, but I’m still ahead. More importantly, I know I felt a million times better last month – when I was on the keto diet and walking loads – than what I do today.
Just thinking about putting my shoes on to go across the street and buy vegetables nearly had me in tears today, but I did it. The fridge now contains green things that aren’t mold. The FitBit is charged, and barring the last few (many) crackers I will finish tonight (with more cheese, obviously) the carbs are all gone.
I want something like my 18 year old body back. I remember feeling good about myself then.
I know, I know: my boobs just won’t ever be that buoyant, stretch marks are inevitable and some bits will probably now droop in perpetuity. I’m not expecting any miracles, just a change.
The biggest change will be eliminating a very constant and pronounced source of misery from my life. Tackling this thing that I see as a problem, not escaping it. It is literally and figuratively still a huge weight that I carry around both mentally and physically and I don’t need it.
Being closer to my 18 year old size feels more like me than what my current size does, and 2018 is about getting me back, whatever shape or form that takes on.
I’m sick of hiding who I am, and I’m not going to do it anymore.