The subject I’m going to write about today is something I’ve been over, and over, and over some more. I have been so indecisive about what to do- even now my mind is trying to go in several different ways. I finally realised- I need to choose a course of action and stick with it. Half arsed is not the way.
I am going all in.
I am talking about my weight. A few years ago, I really thought I had it cracked, but then it all went tits up. I can’t put it down to one single thing, there were a whole load of factors and put in the same situation again, I have no doubt I would once more eat allllll the things. In any case, right now I do not feel good about myself.
When I think about dieting, the first thing I feel is guilt. Guilt because I know how harmful diet culture is, and I don’t want to be part of the problem. Buuuuuut, I also really hate being fat. That is just the tip of the iceberg of all the contradictory thoughts that go around my head.
I’m trying to be as honest as possible, and part of that is admitting that this post is reading like all the other times I said I was going to ‘get back on track’ or on the other hand, like all the times I said I was going to learn to be happy being fat. So why is this time different? The answer is, I don’t know. It just is.
I know how rare it is for someone to lose weight and keep it off. I know ‘diets don’t work’. But I’m tired of selling myself short. If I only ever did anything that was 100% likely to succeed, then I’d never do anything at all. None of us would.
Before I started doubting myself over every little thing, I knew I could do this. I was (albeit briefly) really happy, and although life is never perfect, I’m aiming for that sweet spot again. This post isn’t doing the fire I feel in my belly the slightest bit of justice, but it felt wrong, like an omission, not to write about it.
I am drowning out the negative thoughts telling me the success rates are not on my side, that I’m not strong enough, or that I don’t deserve to have the life I want. Screw that.
I’ve been telling myself the same thing about my art for years and when I shut that evil little voice up, that’s when everything changed. That attitude is creeping into other things now. I’ve always wanted to learn how to make my own clothes but there was always something in the back of my mind telling me I wouldn’t be able to do it.
No more of that, thank you very much. I woke up a few days ago with another little flame inside me telling me to learn how to sew, and that actually, yes I CAN. I am CAPABLE. Why wouldn’t I be? I have a new sewing machine because as much as I love my nan’s vintage Singer that I inherited, it’s a bit too temperamental for regular use. I also get the impression it could kill me at any moment- I mean, look at that belt. That can’t be good, right? You should see the switch on it. I doubt it meets any kind of modern safety standards. Electrocution, anyone?
I’m going to start off doing basic adjustments to my existing clothes as my weight drops, and see where I go from there. Far, I reckon. I have a good feeling.
From now on there are no apologies for me following my heart.
Here we go.