Something has been on my mind for a few weeks now, but it’s recently boiled over & now I have to talk about it. And here it is:
I’m not “lucky.”
Since July, I’ve lost almost 15 lbs. I’ve lost almost 10 inches off my body, which I know for sure because my trainer measures. I’ve made an effort to eat cleanly & not overindulge (grief over Monty excluded). When I dine out, I make responsible choices & avoid pizza/pasta. I don’t chow down on the bread basket. I do yoga at lunchtime instead of using it as a social hour. I’m close to doing an unassisted pull up. I run long on weekends.
I’m not “lucky.”
It seems like the more weight I lose, the fitter I get, the more people want to say things like “You’re so lucky…” or something like “I don’t have the kind of time you have…” or even “I could never eat like that.” Recently, I was told it’s impossible to watch television without snacking! And then there was the shock that I don’t drink anything but water (or a sports drink when the situation calls for it).
The same people who make these ridiculous exclamations are the same folks who want to waste my time asking me exactly what I’m eating every single day… as though they’re asking because they want to make the commitment. I’m asked at the most inconvenient times to rattle off my entire meal plan, what type of exercise I do, what type of gear I like to use, & even how long it takes to see results… But you know what? They don’t want to make the commitment. They want to pass off their failure as one thing: that I’m lucky & they’re not. But you know what else?
I’m not “lucky.” I’m busting my ass.
I have to be vigilant. I have to remember the piece of office birthday cake isn’t worth the amount of time it’ll take me to work it off. I have to remember that pizza tastes great but sticks with me for about 2 days. I’m the person making the frantic phone call to my trainer when chocolate cake with chocolate icing is offered up at retirement parties & I need help avoiding temptation. I spend weekends running & recovering. I wake up at 0500 to play frisbee with Penny, then do it again 2 more times in the evening. I spend weekdays lifting weights instead of watching TV, though I suppose you could do that at the same time if you’ve got weights at your house.
What I want people to know & accept is that everyone can do it. You just have to want to do it. And if you don’t to… if you simply don’t have it in your guts, then that’s fine too. Just stop complaining about it! Stop bothering me about what I’m doing, how I’m eating, & what I’m wearing. Accept yourself & be happy… & stay out of my way. Stop trying to convince me that one slice of cake won’t kill me. Stop trying to talk me into having lunch at a fast food place. Stop trying to suck me into your lifestyle because you can't hang with mine.
I know this sounds pretty harsh. It feels harsh to write. Since July, I’ve noticed this mentality a lot more. Maybe I’m more focused on it because I’m so committed… I don’t know. I know it’s driving me crazy, though, because even though I’m asked, I don’t think people respect how difficult this is. They just think, “oh, she’s lucky.”
Lucky doesn’t make your ass smaller. Commitment does. Get committed people, or get out of my way.