Back in June, I started a blog post that I never finished:
It’s not the number on the scale that’s getting me down; it’s the reappearance of my double chin and my spare tire. It’s the added jiggle in places I’d once made unjiggly. It’s the tightness of the waistbands in my work slacks. It’s the fatigue.
At that point, I weighed ten pounds less than I do now.
I’d love to blame my weight gain on working from home, on perimenopause, on my ADHD, on my thyroid… but if I’m going to be honest with myself, it’s all on me. My choices. My attitude. My priorities.
I’ve made an agreement with myself to track everything I eat this week, to get outdoors for at least 15 minutes a day, to improve my sleep hygiene by winding down properly before bed, and to journal or blog daily. Doing those things should help adjust my mindset to a healthier one, instead of this Jeckyll-and-Hyde, black-and-white, I really care or I really don’t mentality.
Weight that comes on quickly is easier to take off quickly. Weight that creeps up like this, not so much. I’ve got a long row to hoe before I get back to where I’ll feel like myself again.