The Stages of Weight Loss - #2 (Sad, Sad Realization)

After the epic battle (or at least, slightly elevated conversation) between my Ego and Superego, the denial stage of weight loss grinds to an unhappy halt. No longer can I ignore the upward creeping of the scale, and the rationalizations begin to wear so thin that I can see through them clear to the nearest Dunkin Donuts.

At this stage of the game, I know -- on some level -- that my lack of exercise is as much a matter of priorities as it is a shortage of time; I begin understand that there is a connection between eating unhealthy food on the run and the crappy way I feel. And in the most recent example, I reluctantly acknowledge that at some point "pregnancy weight" is really just "weight."

This should be the part where I take the bull by the horns, jump on an invigorating weight loss and diet program, and start turning over that big, puffy new leaf. That's what logic would dictate. I know people who can react to weight gain this way, and they always impress me with their commitment and energy.

I, on the other hand, am going to need a little time (and a box of Oreos) to think things over.

Maybe this is a universal thing or just me, but the realization that my weight is up much further than I'd like is typically demoralizing rather than invigorating. I know I should take it as a challenge, an opportunity to prove that I have control over my life and my body, and an invitation to show what I'm made of (besides fat cells). But really what I most want to do is sit around on the couch with a tub of Ben & Jerry's and feel sorry for myself for a while.

During this phase, I feel angry with myself for not noticing sooner that my eating and lack of exercise were so far off track. I also, incidentally, feel angry with all the skinny, fit people I see around me. Stupid skinny people. Grrrr.

There's also sort of a sad frustration going on, remembering times when I felt, ate and exercised better. Trying on the jeans that fit perfectly (and generated compliments) last year, but which now won't even come close to buttoning. Sometimes all the negative feedback I receive from myself and the world in this stage is so discouraging, I'm tempted to give up on myself entirely. It doesn't help that what I most often do when I feel discouraged is eat. I can't lose weight anyway, so I might as well order the french fries. And maybe dessert....

This stage doesn't usually last very long, which is fortunate, because it's miserable and arguably more calorie-laden than the denial phase. But, after a week or so of this self-indulgent self-pity, I usually find a way to rebound. Sometimes I get a grip on my own with lots of inner coaching and loving myself enough to take good care of me. Other times, I have a couple of really busy back-to-back days with no time to eat obsessively or a special opportunity to get lots of exercise all at once (like a hiking trip with friends).

Either way, something changes, and I feel some tiny measure of success. There's nothing like a little success to rally your spirits and turn dismay into measured optimism. It's like kicking off the bottom of the swimming pool and starting the slow journey upward....