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I put on my jeans Friday and I didn't even have to unzip them to do so. Freshly washed and dried, they are usually snug below the waist. I measured my waist. Down 1 inch. No, I must have done that wrong...let me exhale and not hold my stomach in, be as relaxed as possible. Now, measure...down-1 inch. o_0 Cue emotions: scared, anxious, excited, disbelief, dumbfounded, proud...all what I felt when I saw that smaller number.
Even though I know the scale is not a true measure of my body's composition, I jumped on to see if there is even a pound difference. Nada. Same weight as a week ago. Years of media, infomercials, doctors, my mother's unknowing negative words (from years of misinformation and desperation) are screaming inside my head, "You have done nothing right, you didn't lose an ounce! Ha! Knew you couldn't do it." I put on my jeans again, and feel how my bra doesn't squeeze the breath out of me anymore and that voice is not so loud now.
That voice would coax me into hitting a drive-thru for breakfast because it is easy. It would say, it's OK, it's just this once, then convince me later that I was a failure for caving in, so why not just go ahead and do it again for dinner. That voice would whisper all day in my head, everything, however minute, I had done to drag me down and give in to it.
Now that voice is getting crushed by the pride I have in myself for losing 1 inch...one itty, bitty inch! If 1 inch can have such a profound affect on my thinking and squash that nasty voice, make it 'eat' it's own words...imagine what 2 inches will do. I can't wait to feed that voice back the load of bullshit it's been feeding me for years. :-)
Thank you, Joe, and everyone who has been so friendly, helpful and encouraging.
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