On Thursday I saw the podiatrist. My foot isn’t healed enough to come out of the boot. I’m not in pain, but if I pivot on my foot, it still hurts A LOT. So, the boot for another 2 weeks. This was not what I wanted to hear.I’ve been in the dang boot for 9 weeks. Four weeks were on the scooter. I hated the scooter, but it was better than crutches. But the boot…I cannot tell you how done I am with it. It isn’t so bad itself, but since it makes my foot higher than the other foot, it puts my hips out of alignment. This causes pain. Of course, not in my foot, but in my lower back and hip. You could almost consider it a pain in the a##.
Obviously, I won’t want to push things and if my foot isn’t healed, then I need to be in the boot longer. I get that. But the whole situation is messing with my goals and my life. I can hear your response – “If you don’t take the time to let your foot heal now, you’ll be right back where you started.” I know. I know. But it doesn’t make me any less frustrated. And Thursday I had a meltdown. Not a little pity party, but a major meltdown.
I left the podiatrist intending on doing some grocery shopping. I made it as far as the parking lot. Pulled into a space and texted a friend (AG) to see if she was around. She was on her way out the door to workout and would meet me after. I sat in the parking lot and cried. I got myself together and then cried some more. I went into the store and continued with the tear-fest. I came home put away the groceries and headed out to meet my friend. Sure enough, I started crying again while talking to her.
People think that I am so strong. I am smiling and so nothing is bothering me. But, honestly, I often fake it. I try to enjoy the good parts of my life and focus on those. But things that may not faze someone else, send me over the edge; like being stuck in the boot another 2 weeks.
It isn’t so much the boot. It is the frustration that I am feeling with myself. I gained back all the weight I lost. And I am seeing myself in the mirror, and perhaps for the first time, as fat. Before now, I looked in the mirror and saw myself as I’ve always been. Well, not always. But I look in the mirror and while I know that I am fat, I don’t feel fat. I don’t see myself as fat. Or at least I didn’t until recently. And I hate it. The only thing that I can think of to truly explain it is this – an anorexic doesn’t see themselves as thin (sickeningly so). When they look in the mirror, they see fat. It is kind of the opposite. I don’t see myself as fat. I know that I am, but I don’t visualize myself that way. It is probably because of that, that I have had such a hard time losing weight. It is hard to change your life when you don’t see it as it is.
I’m a stress eater. Always have been. And I’m stressed. I know that the only way that I am really going to be able to lose weight is by exercising. Oh, I’ll work on eating healthy food and not going overboard. But the thing is, I have so much weight to lose that eating healthy food isn’t going to do enough. And when I’m stressed, I know that all the intentions in the world won’t keep me from having chocolate, or cookies, or whatever. Exercising is what will make me successful in taking off the weight. Exercising will increase my endorphins and will help with the stress (although, if the past is any indicator of the future – it won’t reduce the stress enough that I won’t make poor choices with eating). And I can’t exercise for probably another month. And I’m frustrated.
Becoming fat didn’t happen overnight. And another 2 weeks isn’t going to make much of a difference in losing weight. But mentally and emotionally? I need to do something. I can’t walk, run, bike or swim. I can’t move my ankle – eliminating almost everything. I can work my upper body, but I’m afraid if I do something, I will become even more frustrated because of what I can’t do. Does that make sense?
Meeting my friend was a good thing. I texted her because I knew that she wouldn’t baby me and brush off how I was feeling. She would tell me that it did suck and well, and nothing. She wouldn’t “there, there” me. And I totally appreciated it. It was why I wanted to talk with her over someone else. She was real and I love that about her. She did say that I was entitled to my pity party and that everyone had them at times. But she didn’t indulge me in my pity. She recognized it, named it, and made me move on. She was exactly what I needed. We visited for a long while after I got my, “woe is me,” out of my system. I was still in a pretty foul mood and I was angry. Good anger. Anger at myself for doing this. Placing the blame firmly where it belongs, at my feet (ok, not so funny – yes part of the reason I’m in this position is that I broke my foot, but it is my fault and only my fault that I am fat).
My anger is cathartic. It is healing. It is what is going to get me moving my rear, when my foot is healed. It won’t let me say – I’m fat, but that’s ok. It isn’t.
I am the only one who can make the necessary changes. And I have to want it. But it doesn’t change who I am – a beautiful, caring woman. I am smart, funny and compassionate. I am an amazing teacher, mother, wife and friend. Being fat doesn’t make me something I’m not. It is not something that I’m going to let define me because, I can change it.