I need to talk about a heavy issue here.

A few weeks back, I started a “reflections” series. There were a few posts back then…

• Reflections: On 6 months out of Africa
• Reflections: On half of a year of a meatless existence
• Reflections: on injury

And when I started that I had intended to include two more posts: one about turning 25 and kind of where I’m at in life, and this post. I guess they kind of slipped away from me, but now here I am.

I’ve debated writing this post for the last couple of weeks. Part of me thought it would be really cathartic and helpful to just write it, like a weight off my shoulders; another part of me assumed I’d regret it—what you put in the blogosphere, you can never take back. (Good thing I no longer aspire to any sort of political career!) I also worry about what people think—friends who have no connection to this “healthy living” blog world, coworkers, potential dates Googling me… But I’ve decided to write it anyways. I am an open book and when I get something off my chest it loses some of its power. So here goes.

I’m going through something that many of us have gone through in our lives: I’m struggling with my weight. I’m at a healthy BMI, but I’m about eight pounds over my happy weight (which is already a bit higher than other women my height, 5’3”-5’4”, due to my curvy/muscular build).

Eight pounds doesn’t have a lot of places to go when you’re 5’4”.

(source)

This didn’t happen overnight, of course. It’s been four months, maybe. It was the result of taking a job that pretty much guarantees I sit all day except for maybe less than an hour of walking (all day… combined) and maybe an hour workout or run. That’s a lot of sitting. And metabolism slowing down. And equally if not more importantly—I’ve been eating too much. I don’t buy much unhealthy food, but it’s been around me at the office and I’ve been eating non-nutritious food like pita chips and wheat things and teddy grahams whenever I get a chance. Work stress = stress eating. It’s dangerous territory. Especially when there are so many yummy things that you can just grab!

So I can’t be alarmed about this and everyone gains weight at some points in our lives. Big freaking deal! I tend to stop reading blogs when people are talking about their weight. It’s not something that defines me and not something I talk about on the blog much, so please know this is the exception rather than the norm. I want to be honest with readers/blog friends—while normally, like most, I’m a happy blogger, life is more complicated sometimes. And body image is important, and maintaining a healthy one is not always easy. When I read blogs where people are weighing in all the time or complaining, I unsubscribe because it just makes me feel bad about myself and like I should be obsessing, too. And Lord knows I’ve been there!

When I moved to Mozambique, I gained 20 pounds in a matter of months. A SHORT period. A combination of factors (radical change in diet + stress + radical change in lifestyle + medication) caused it. I lost about 15 of the 20. But I was obsessed. I would cry about food sometimes, I would over-exercise. Living in a hut in Africa meant I had lost control over almost everything in my life, and then I lost my body, too, so I felt. Eating and exercise were the one thing I could control. And I abused them.

I didn’t talk about it on the blog so much, but then again I was living in Africa so I wasn’t blogging very frequently. But it cast a dark cloud over my life—I was this very together person, I’d always had decent body image, and now I was binge eating and then crying and abusing my body? Who was this person? I didn’t recognize myself.

Things got better. They did. I regained some of my perspective although my body image still is not what it used to be. But that was okay. I started training for a marathon in January and sure, I gained a little weight, but I felt strong, fit, and powerful!

The last months have been opposite. I tried to eat better, lost three pounds and gained four back. Last night I was walking around at my company happy hour and ALL I wanted to do was go change into sweats… because my pants aren’t fitting me anymore. And these weren’t ever even “skinny” jeans before.

I refuse to buy “big girl pants.” I refuse. But I’m almost to that point.

Why am I blogging about this? Sure, I gained weight at a desk job because I’m sedentary and overeating, well just move more and eat less! It seems so easy and simple.

It’s not.

I need to make changes in my life that will require discipline. I’ve been “trying to eat healthier” for the last month and have gained more weight. My willpower around food has been nonexistent.

It will require discipline—but I’m scared to death of getting back to the place I used to be in order to make any changes. So lost to my true self that seeing an M&M could make my heart beat faster with fear, or longing, or some weird combo. I would rather be a little thicker than EVER be that girl again. Life is too darn short.

To be honest, I feel overwhelmed. I know I need to drop some pounds because it’s affecting other areas of my life. I get angry at myself constantly. I feel like I am a failure. I don’t want to go on dates because I feel unattractive. I feel it when I run, I do.

So something NEEDS to change with my body, absolutely. But more importantly, something needs to change IN ME.

I feel like I’ve just been in a little bit of a rut and lots of things are affecting me more than they normally would. Yes, I need to lose a few pounds. It’s okay, everyone’s done it, I am very fit and healthy so this is the least of my troubles. But much more importantly, I have got to change my perspective. I KNOW what’s important and I know that THIS IS NOT. Sure, an eight-pound weight gain may need to be dealt with. But that’s so secondary to dealing with the way that I have been viewing myself, my worth, my beauty, and my ability because of this. Only when I accept the fact that I’m beautiful and strong at any number am I ever going to be able to just let things go and get back to normal.

I can do it. I’ve tried starting out with a rigid MO, posting a calendar, weighing in daily, giving myself a Lisa Frank sticker for days that I work out. My motivation corner, if you will.

But I don’t think that’s the key for me. I think finding inner peace, as cheesy as it sounds, is the only way that I can beat my demons. The scale motivates many people. But not me. I see it more as a weapon or something I am fine with never stepping on again.

I don’t care about the number. I could care less. I care about how I feel. I want to feel like I’m in a good place, both physically AND emotionally. And that’s going to require work from the inside out.

I don’t know how, but I know that now that it’s out there to the world, maybe, just maybe, I’ll find my spark. And remember that I am beautiful and blessed no matter what small inconveniences threaten to make me question that.

Thanks for reading. Now I can move on and spend my time thinking about something that truly matters.

Courtney

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