I lost another 2.5 pounds this week bringing my three week total to 17.5 pounds. My original goal for the month was 18 pounds but, since I have over a week left of January, I think I'm going to shoot for an even twenty. I'm also going to try my damnedest to drag my ass to the gym with Husband on Monday. He has lost 12 pounds so far this year and has already met is monthly goal. His results are motivating me to add the exercise I know I need as I have spent the last 3 weeks counting and weighing everything I eat while he has pretty much eaten anything he wants and just burned it off on the treadmill. To be fair, I have noticed him eating less carbs.
Secretly, I hate that Husband is losing weight. I am super happy for him and proud of his accomplishments thus far, but it does add some pressure on me. Are my efforts measuring up? Is his way better? I am also confronted with the guilt of "I should be going, too." every time he heads out the door to workout. Why doesn't he share the guilt as he shovels in bratwursts while I'm measuring out my sliver of cheese for the evening?
Bottom line, it's all fun and games when I'm playing the numbers game with myself but, add in the competition, and I become obsessed with the fact that I simply cannot hold my own against him. Despite being out of shape, he is and always has been an athlete. I have always been a lazy couch potato. As a kid, he played soccer and baseball. I was a Girl Scout who probably ate more cookies than I ever sold.
I had a minor meltdown the other night when Husband told me that he burned almost 700 calories running on the treadmill at the gym. I can't run. At all. I get myself to a fast walk and I'm huffing and puffing. I thought quitting smoking would greatly improve this, but it hasn't and that frustrates me to tears. I quit smoking so I could be healthier...as in walk and climb and jog without having to use an inhaler in order to catch my breath. Instead, I gained 25 pounds and still can't intensify my workouts because I end up choking and gasping and feeling like a total loser.
I hear so many people say that their workouts are "empowering". I venture to guess that Husband is one of these people. I am not. I want to be, but I'm starting to feel that it is physically impossible. I always feel like a big *fat* failure doing my stupid 2.8 on the treadmill, wheezing all the way. I hate the gym. I hate working out. I hate feeling like I will never succeed at something I want so badly... to be physically fit, to just walk out the door on any adventure and not worry about the limitations of my body.
At this point, I would totally give up the dream of wearing cute, fashionable clothes in a *normal* size and agree to live the rest of my life in a 200 pound body that didn't physically inhibit me. I've been fat for so long that I've gotten used to coping with the self-image crap. What I cannot accept is the inability to do the things that my family wants to do. Maybe that's what frustrates me the most, knowing that right now I have two choices... I can either hold them back or remove myself from their adventures... and both options suck.