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Day 124: What do you model…gloves?

Updated: Dec 27, 2021

So knowing this about myself, why do I allow myself to fall off the wagon?  I’m going on week two of granting myself daily exceptions.  The last time I’d been to my mat was last Wednesday.  Until today…

This got me thinking about all the things we allow ourselves to do that we know aren’t good for us…or just don’t want to do…and how we treat ourselves after.

I was the one that granted myself the exception.  I was the one that said it was ok to eat that pasta at ten o’clock at night.  I was the one that didn’t make time to work out.  And I’m the one that kicks my own ass about it on a nearly hourly basis each day.  I’m the one that gets mad every time I walk by a mirror…touch my stomach…put something in my mouth.

I know I’m lucky that I’ve never suffered from an eating disorder.  Too many women I know have.  It’s a horrible struggle that can stem from any number of issues.

I also know that I’m nowhere near developing one now…because they can come on at any age.  I realize that it’s a twisted blessing that I can feel this bad about my behavior and not plummet over the edge.  Somehow I stay teetering on the ledge…balancing myself from falling with all the self-hate.

But why…again, I’m the one in control.  I hold all the power yet for some reason, I give it away.  I give it away to other priorities…to conveniences…to friends…to wanting to fit in.  Those same excuses can apply to any vice.  Food…exercising…drinking…drugs…retail therapy…anything.

If I step back and look at the situation, despite my frustration with myself, it’s not bad enough to change my behavior.  It’s just bad enough to make me mad and get my attention but not bad enough to get me to do something about it…until it is.

I’m trying to bring as healthy a perspective to the situation as I can. Realistically, there are circumstances right now — Mr. Universe’s family is visiting this week — that takes priority.  So I’m going to do my best to give myself some extra forgiveness.  

To tell myself that next week, when things are back to normal (whatever normal is), that then I’ll tighten down on the diet.  I’ll work out extra hard.  I’ll buckle down for a couple of weeks…maybe a month…and make up the ground I just lost.

I have to have a goal….a realistic goal…an attainable goal…a light at the end of the food tunnel so I don’t dive head first over the edge.  It’s the fear of what might be waiting at the bottom that keeps me balancing on the ledge.   And for that, I’m thankful.


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