I’ve made it through the third month of training. This month proving to be a bit more difficult than others. More so emotionally difficult than physically.
At the end of April, Trace asked if I wanted to do measurements and take body fat. Immediately, my heart sank to my feet. I have always had this anxiety about someone knowing the numbers. I don’t even get weighed at the doctor’s office. Only two other people have known the numbers, and they were my old trainers.
There is an overwhelming sense of shame, humiliation and embarrassment when I have to be open about that. I feel like I look like I’ve lost control of myself, like I don’t have my stuff together. Like I’m a mess. I try so hard to have this tough shell that I can’t bear to have someone see that I’ve messed up. That I’ve worked so hard and moved so little. I’m a perfectionist, and it is frustrating to not get it right the first time. I stressed about it for about a week. Not getting a lot of sleep, and crying. I know that seems like an overreaction, but I was scared and humiliated. I cried in the parking lot with my best friend after it was over. I am happy that I know and I have a platform to improve upon. It was just hard to get there.
I know I’m not the numbers. But my heart doesn’t believe it. I have held myself back from life because of those numbers. I don’t deem myself successful because I have always been told that I WOULD be great/beautiful/happy/etc…..when I am thinner. Nevermind all the other accomplishments that I have under my belt. They don’t count, because I did them while I was fat.
And I feel even fatter after last night. I weighed myself, just to see where I was. I’ve gained 4 pounds. After the meltdown in my bathroom, and later as I went to sleep, I know that I’m okay. I feel good. I feel stronger. I feel more balanced. I feel like I’m making progress, despite what the scale might say. I'm not defined by that, the scale is not my heart.
I threw away my tape measure. Trace has my measurements and won’t tell me what they are, all I’ll know is what changes. I do know my body fat percentage, the curiosity was killing me. I’m pretty okay with the number. I shared it with my accountability group, that my friend, Iveylee, created.
I didn’t share it for attention, or anything like that. I shared it because these people that are apart of this group help encourage me through this process. Like you readers do. They workout along side of me, push me and kick my butt when I need it. If the number goes up, they’re going to be there to get me in gear. When the number goes down, they will help me get to the next step. It's like why I write this blog. Someone out there is going through this journey too. If it's the last 10 pounds or having to lose 100, I just want you to know that I understand how frustrating it is, and you're going to get through it too.It also helps me come to terms with the numbers. To detach from them, knowing that they don't define the person I am, or will be.