And so it goes...

 I read a quote recently by Jennifer Weiner that said something along the lines of "Our bodies got us through the worst year of our collective lives and we should celebrate it instead of punishing it." You know, because we all packed on some weight during the pandemic. I'm finding it difficult to love this body, though.

Twenty pounds. That's how much I gained from late March till now. The last time I stepped on the scale (last week) I weighed in at a hefty 246. 

I did fairly well the first six or seven months of the pandemic. I fluctuated 5-10 pounds for MONTHS. Considering that I was working from home while also helping my parents while my mom battled cancer, I thought a 5-10lb fluctuation wasn't all that bad. Then Christmas came. And even though I couldn't be with my sisters, nieces and nephew, and my parents couldn't really eat any of it, I still made the usual Christmas treats and candy. And I ate most all of it by myself. I did give some of it away but, yeah. I gained a solid 5lbs on top of the 10 I'd been carrying at the time and they ALL stayed. 

And then my mom died in March, a week and a half before my birthday, and I quickly gained another 5lbs that have stayed. Since then, I've fluctuated another 4lbs or so upward which has really messed with my head and my body. It's not even that I'm feeling bad about the way that I look or the fact that I've had to pull my "midway point" wardrobe back out in order to have clothes to wear to work (now that I'm back in office)...I FEEL awful. I feel heavy and cumbersome and gross. And yes, I do hate the way the extra weight looks on me.

I halfway thought that when I returned to working in the office at least SOME of the extra weight would melt off simply because I'm getting more activity by merely walking around the ginormous library. But that hasn't happened. Mostly because I've been continuing to stress eat potato chips with dip, candy, and vending machine snacks--not to mention vending maching Cokes. I've also been eating out quite a bit more than I had been. Mid-week trips to Chick-fil-A and Panda Express.  Stopping for breakfast or lattes on my way to work. Finding some self-discipline has been difficult, to say the least. I have zero real motivation even as bad as I hate the way I feel in this body. 

I'm a perfectionist at being "easy" on myself. I give myself a pass far too often. Punishment with restriction has never been a real issue. Binging and self-loathing, on the other hand, those come all too easy. It's also hard to manage the depression and anxiety without falling back on food and sugary drinks. 

I'm also having back and knee problems which makes some movement slow and/or painful which is frustrating. I've managed to modify a few exercise movements that I had hoped would help with toning leg and butt muscles but I am inconsistent. I give in to the temptation to sit on my butt when I get home or hit the snooze in the morning instead of getting up early enough to do anything.

I wish this was me about to break out into a fight song about how I'm ready now to kick this extra weight's butt. But it's not. Truth be told, I'm sitting here right now battling the urge to go in search of a treat somewhere and am fairly certain that I will.