The month before Christmas I lost ten pounds. “Lost” is a strange word to use. It doesn’t really describe the process. Shoved away makes more sense. Stomped, fought, starved, anything but lost. I didn’t misplace it with hopes of finding it later. It didn’t get pushed to the back of a drawer or dropped behind my nightstand. I won’t be taking out an ad in the paper or passing out flyers, hoping someone will return it.
I have hit a plateau and can’t seem to break past it. I was depressed about it yesterday. Maybe depressed isn’t the correct word. Frustrated comes closer. This morning I woke up thinking about dieting this time of year. I realized that instead of hitting a plateau I have just managed to maintain the status quo through the Christmas holidays. When you think about it in those terms it sounds much better. I did sample a few goodies so I didn’t feel totally deprived. I did not gain the weight I lost back, so this is really a letter of encouragement to myself.
This is NOT a resolution. Knowing myself, I have to hide any kind of formal committment from myself – close my eyes, hide my head under my pillow, whistle in the dark – whatever you want to call it. I will stick my fingers in my ears and sing lalala, I’m not really doing anything significant here – nope not me.
Here’s to jumping off the plateau. No more holiday goodies hanging around as I “shed” pounds. There’s another silly phrase. Like a tree sheds it’s leaves, a gentle breeze blows and the pounds just drift away.
That last sentence sounded a lot better in my head in my best sarcastic voice. Has all this made me a bit grouchy?