Week One... Or Should I Say Week Two Thousand One Hundred and Seventy Nine...

 That's how many weeks I have been alive (give or take a couple of days). Two thousand one hundred and seventy-nine. Yet here I am still fighting the same fights I have always fought. Self-image, self-acceptance, unrelenting standards, imposter syndrome. 

Once again I find myself in a body that feels uncomfortable and unhealthy. It crept up on me slowly and suddenly all at the same time. I still barely eat any refined sugar. I turn down the lollies and cakes and doughnuts at work. It's not even a struggle, I no longer enjoy the way sugar makes my body feel. But my old nemesis, potato chips, remains undefeated. I eat potato chips to fill the emptiness in my soul. To feel as miserable physically as I do mentally or emotionally. To get comfort from an association with my childhood. It is the struggle I can't overcome. The war I can't win.

So after months of trying on my own to no avail, months of the scales not budging, I have signed up for a healthy eating plan. I'm not going to call it a diet because it's not. It's just a program that provides you with a plan of what to eat and a place to log the things you put in your mouth. So while I may be at week 2179 of my life, I once again find myself in week one of a hunt for a healthier me. 

So far it's been relatively easy, even with eating out twice this week. Its all common sense stuff, not rocket surgery. But its structure. Its rules I must abide by. I can't tell myself that a few chips (AKA a whole bag) won't hurt when I am having to log everything I put in my mouth. Its harder to hide when there is a spotlight on you and its hard to lie to yourself when you start paying attention. This way of eating forces me to listen to my body and so far it's been telling me that it's not mad at me, it's just been very disappointed.

So here we go. Life is a journey, not a destination but I'm getting bloody sick of this trip. I'm going to try and blog while I'm doing it so I have a record of how I'm feeling and of my progress. 86.4kg was my starting weight and while ultimately I would like to be 65kg, my first goal is 77kg. I hope to reach it in 12 weeks. Realistically, the numbers on the scale are less important than how I feel in my own skin and my own clothes so as I get closer to my goal I will reassess how I feel. Ideally, I would like to be a size 10 - 12 but with inconsistent sizing these days it can be a little hard to measure even that. So I will settle for feeling healthy and less repulsed when I look in the mirror. I'm still working on that self-acceptance.