Monday, February 28, 2011

Determination.

I don't have it.

I don't have will power.  I don't have strength when it comes to personal issues.  I just don't.  I am surrounded by strong willed people.  People of whom I am in awe.  But me, no.  I used to say that procrastination was my number one character flaw.  And while I think that this is still in the top three, I have moved lack of will power into the top spot.

Yes this is cliche girl whining about her cliche body.  I am not happy with the way I look or feel.  Yes I can blame it on the weather and not being able to get outside, but that is a cop out too.  I can just as much and fully blame what is going into my mouth.  And that is crap.  Pure and utter garbage is what I eat all day.  So why would I be surprised that it's only like garbage that I feel?

The new "it" piece of advise is to make peace with your body.  To learn to love yourself as you are. Um, no.  I don't love this.  I can't love this and I don't expect anyone else to.  I don't even like accidentally brushing my own arm against my stomach when I'm in bed.  Let alone do I want any one else to.  Sex is nothing more than a steam of self consciousness in which I'm telling myslef to suck this in, pull that more taut, turn this angle so that doesn't bulge out.  For those that know me, to hear me say that sex has become a chore is kind of big deal.  That's where mama is at right now. I dark, jiggly. hateful place.

Josh has will power.  He wants to quit smoking and he does.  He may start again, but again, I think that is more because he wants to rather than he's a slave to nicotine.  He stopped and hasn't started again for many, many weeks.  He decides he's going to get up at 5 AM and work out each morning and he does.  He doesn't even hit snooze once.  He just gets up and does it.  Four days a week without complaining.  He's downstairs working out while I'm engaged in a complicated waltz with my alarm clock trying to muster seven more minutes of sleep. Lazy much?

My mother has lost over 50 pounds in less than a year. She decided and it was so. Her portions are automatically smaller now, while I'm piling on heaping serving after heaping serving.  Hating myself all the while.

The vending machine buttons are beginning to wear as I daily punch B4 and E7 repeatedly for my sugary carbby fixes more than once a day.  I hate myself even as I walk back to my desk with my poor choices.

How do I get the strength to say no?  Where do I find the end of food addictions and bad choices? I say all these things yet I don't have the strength to do anything about it for myself.  So I'm the worst sucker of all.  My hill is getting steeper and my body is becoming less resistant to make the climb.  It's my own fault.  It's my own fault that this summer when it's pool time, I'll be sitting on the deck fully clothed.  Probably sucking on a cigarette and eating nachos.

Here's my hope that the universe is a fan of blogs and can help me pull myself up.

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