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This week, for me, has been
an utter whirl of anniversaries and accomplishments, and I still feel as if I’m
floating on a cloud. Here’s hoping I don’t fall off too soon.
As mentioned in my previous
blog, May 14th was the one year anniversary of my initial meeting
with my Cambridge Weight Plan consultant. And what a year it has been!! After
last week’s horrible and unexpected gain of four pounds, which took me nine
pounds away from my ultimate goal of losing 12 stone in exactly 12 months,
and essentially “halving myself” in a year.
The gain was very disappointing, but I didn’t let it deter me. I stuck
religiously to my 1200 calories a day plan, and kept up with the exercise. It
was incredibly tempting all week to drop the calorie intake and hit the
exercise even harder, in the hope that those pesky nine pounds would
magically melt away. Instead I gave myself a thorough talking to and
reconciled that “what will be, will be”. Numbers shouldn’t matter that much,
it’s how you feel that counts….
Of course, that’s what I told myself…but it don’t stop me hopping on and off the scale several times a day and counting my calories to obsessional level…..
The fated day arrived…
Things
didn’t go quite to plan. I had to change the time of my appointment due to a misunderstanding
over the start time of my son’s new swimming class, but my consultant was
able to accommodate. So, come High Noon, heart in my throat, I found myself
knocking on a door that had become so familiar over the past 12 months.
My
consultant greeted me with her customary light bulb smile and I presented her
with an orchid, in Cambridge colours naturally, to commemorate “our
anniversary”. My consultant blushed and immediately apologised. My change of
schedule had ruined her plans, she had arranged for a florist delivery for me
at her home to surpirsie me with, while our original appointment was ongoing. Oh well, that she
would drop them over later. That would be something nice to look forward to.
(and they were worth waiting for, a stunning bunch in shades of my favourite
colour purple!). W
e moved upstairs to her office and I sat down in the chair
which, just a year ago, I could barely squeeze into.
After a few formalities, it
was time…to step on those scales.
Now, as I have already
said, I had been obsessively scale-hopping all week, however, the results had
fluctuated all over the place, and, also I knew that my scales and my
consultants (the ones that mattered..) rarely agreed with one another. All I
did know was that I had definitely lost something…
So, as I had done 42 times
before, I stepped cautiously on to the scales, waited for the beep. The beep
came…there was silence, for what seemed like an eternity. Then my consultant
spoke…. “YOU’VE DONE IT…NINE POUNDS OFF!!! …YOU WEIGH 12 STONES EXACTLY!!”
No way….No fricking way….really?????
What black magic was this?
Actually,
what white magic was this?
Had the Weight Loss Fairy taken pity on me and
paid me a visit?
Whatever it was, I was
jubilant, there were tears in my eyes. There were hugs dished out. My
consultant was delighted, but not in the least bit surprised. “I had a
feeling you’d do it” she said, as she handed me the “12 Stone” rosette that
she had concealed on her desk just in case the result hadn’t been quite so
good.
So there I was, I had
achieved the goal I had wanted so badly, on the very day that I really,
really wanted it to happen. And just after I had finally resigned myself to
the fact that it didn’t really matter.
Isn’t it funny how
sometimes the thing that you have been desperate to attain for a long time
finally appears after you have stopped stressing about getting it? Is it
possible to want something too much? Is the key in this the acceptance of
your current circumstances?
I have heard many times of
this phenomenon, especially in the stories of couples who have been trying
for a baby for many, many years with no success who eventually reconcile
themselves to the fact that it may not happen, only to discover, soon after,
that they are blessed with a pregnancy.
Now I’m not trying to belittle the
heartache of childlessness by comparing it to the tribulations of trying to
shift unwanted pounds, but I think that the principle still stands in any
scenario where we maybe want something too much….
Do we give off “Desperation
Pheromones” that somehow hamper our progress and prevent success?
With
anything that you want so badly, I agree that determination and persistence
are key, but I am coming to realise that, before that, we must undergo a
process of Acceptance.
When, many years ago, I was trying to come to terms with the effects of my
father’s alcoholism I joined the Al-Anon support group who work in association
with Alcoholics Anonymous to support the families and friends of alcoholics.
Both groups subscribe to the Twelve Step programme, the keystone of which is
Acceptance. This means admitting that you are powerless over alcohol / the
alcoholic (or any substance or behaviour of abuse), and allowing yourself to
feel and reconcile yourself with the negativity that these things have caused
you. It’s not an easy process, it involves working THROUGH the pain that you
have probably avoided for many years, allowing it to wash over you and
weathering the storm. If you can do this successfully, you will learn that
all storms do pass and you will emerge stronger for having survived.
For me, in my weight loss
journey, it involved looking at myself long and hard in the mirror and no
longer the denying the undeniable facts. I was FAT, I was UNHEALTHY, I was
UNHAPPY with my size. My weight RESTRICTED me, it PREVENTED me from doing so much.
I was AFRAID of doing anything about it.
The day that I gave in to
those feelings was a very dark one, but it was also one of the best choices I
made. It took COURAGE, it took DETERMINATION, but, hell, it was WORTH IT.
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So
here I am now, just a few pounds away from my target. I have decided to call it
a day on my weight loss when I reach “eleven stone anything” and then work towards
the more challenging task of maintenance.
For 12 months now, I have rowed long
and hard in my little boat across vast and seemingly horizon-less seas.
Sometimes the oceans have been treacherous, other times it has been plain
sailing.
A few weeks ago, I cried “land ahoy”, and now I have moored my little
boat in shallow waters and am wading knee-deep in crystal waters towards the
idyllic silvery beach of my Paradise Island…the land of Slimness!!!
Oh, how I’ve
dreamed of this moment, when I finally step onto dry land and sink my toes into
the warm sands.
The only problem is, that my dream always ended there, when I
reached my destination.
I have been so focused, for so long, on “the journey”
that I haven’t given any thought as to what I will do when I actually arrive.
From a distance, the Island looked beautiful and inviting, shimmering like a
prize jewel from afar, but now I am here I am filled with trepidation.
What
awaits me beyond the sandy shores?
Is my island populated by blood thirsty
cannibals waiting to devour me when I step into their forest lair?
Do hungry
beasties lurk in bone-strewn caves?
Will there be fresh water and enough food
to sustain a permanent life there?
Or will I run screaming back to my boat,
rowing like crazy to escape what once seemed like Utopia?
These are questions
that can’t be answered right now, but to turn away at this stage would be
folly. Once I arrive on the shore, I may allow myself a small time to fall
dramatically to the floor, sprawling like an exhausted Robinson Crusoe. But
then, I must pick myself and muster up yet again the courage and determination that
drove me to row across the uncharted waters. There may well be cannibals and
beasties, but if I was strong enough to master the oceans then I know that I have
the strength to overcome these hurdles too.
Wish me luck……
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