“I don’t give a damn what men find attractive. It’s unfortunate what we find pleasing to the touch and pleasing to the eye is seldom the same.” – Fabienne
I have been training for my next half marathon, the Portland Rock ‘n’ Roll Half, for about 2.5 months now. I run, practice yoga, lift weights, and/or cross train 6 days a week; sometimes seven. My endurance, speed, and strength have all improved dramatically. My weight, on the other hand, leaves something to be desired. While my legs and arms are slimming down and gaining definition, and my chest is shrinking (of course!), my stomach has pretty much stayed the same and reveals itself as a perfectly rounded mound starting just under my belly button.
I find my stubborn paunch infuriating; however, to be fair, while I have little difficulty staying motivated to workout, my discipline is lacking when it comes to mealtime and snacking. I love to eat and my love for eating is not restricted to finely prepared dishes or works of culinary art. What I mean to say is that I’m no foodie. I’m merely a woman who loves fine dining as well as fun dining, and on most days any dining that is available will do.
This morning as I yanked my work skirt over my tummy, I swore to myself that today would be the day I would begin to get my eating under control. Bye-bye belly! The first half of the day went beautifully; I barely thought about food. Even after a lunchtime lifting session at the gym, I was good. Again, during the drive home after work, which is a particularly difficult time of day for me; no problem. I was on the brink of having my first successful day of eating reasonably in a very long time.
I held strong through dinner and then pounded out 60 burpees, 100 squats, 20 crunches, 100 double leg lifts, and a half hour of yoga. Just when I thought I had met my goal– moments before the last drop of sweat on my brow would dry– I found myself elbows deep in a bag of nameless brand cereal. As I shoved fistful after fistful of sugary deliciousness into my mouth I promised myself the next would be my last, which only became the truth when the bag was emptied.
Slightly shame-filled but contented, I readied myself for the inevitable bouts of self-hatred that were sure to come. But for some reason this clip came to mind instead, and for tonight at least, it’s just what I needed.