Twelve seems to be the number of the day. It’s the number of weeks until my birthday. It’s the number of personal training sessions I’ve had with Sharon and the number of upcoming sessions I just purchased.
It’s also the number of pounds I’ve lost.
I was very discouraged about my weight loss last week. I’d met my goal to lose ten pounds in time for my vacation and was floundering a bit without another goal mapped out.
I know that I’m doing everything right. I’m making healthy food choices and I’ve been dedicated to working out nearly every day. And I’m getting results. But it’s slooooooowwwww.
I don’t want to wait. I want to be all tight and firm NOW.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m much tighter and firmer than I was three months ago. I’m a size smaller than I was and I know that eventually I CAN make it down to my ultimate goal. But I don’t want “eventually.” I want it all and I want it now.
The funny thing is that the weight I’ve gained wasn’t a sudden thing. It was slow, too. A few extra pounds a year that could be shrugged off as “age.” So I never really addressed them. Sure, I’d hit the gym for a month or two prior to a vacation or a family function or a bridesmaid’s dress fitting. But mostly I just accepted it as part of life.
I mean, what did I care? I wasn’t dating. I didn’t have to worry about anyone actually seeing me naked.
And since I wasn’t really interested in opening my life and my heart to another person, my weight became a pretty good excuse not to date. “I can’t start dating until I look my best. I’ll get back out there once I’ve dropped a couple sizes.” Only I never actually DID anything to drop those couple sizes.
So. Now I’ve lost twelve pounds and I’ve committed to twelve more sessions with Sharon. I’ve still got a long way to go before I’d be 100% comfortable exposing my bits to the opposite sex, but I’m wondering if that really matters…