Time To Channel My Inner Super Hero
Friends, it’s time for me to channel my inner super hero.
After many weeks of being oh so good with my nutrition, sleep and exercise, I fell apart over the weekend.
I woke up at 10 on Sunday with a migraine, and that awful carb-sugar-fat hangover feeling. I was stressed the night before, and instead of just going to bed like I should have, at 11PM, in a moment of weakness, I downed four frosted strawberry pop tarts, one Lindt milk chocolate bar and a full package of Oreos.
What didn’t seem to bother me at all on Saturday night haunted me all day Sunday. I panicked over the state of my waistline. I felt weak and bloated, and so pathetically out of control. I set goals over the summer, to be healthier and to treat myself better. Okay, I also want to drop many pounds in the process. But I won’t be improving my inside or the outside anytime soon if I continue to have moments like this.
When I was a chubby, not-too-happy preteen, one summer I got into the habit of writing everything down; what I ate, how much I moved and how much I slept. It was the summer between 7th and 8th grade. I was determined to lose weight, get healthy and be happy. And I did it. Once I reached my goals I stopped journaling my activities and my progress. I haven’t done it since.
I know the experts tell us to write down what we eat and drink when we want to lose weight and be healthier. I don’t hear too much about keeping records of exercise and sleep, so I don’t know why I was compelled to do both when I was twelve.
For some reason I have always resented this write-everything-down advice. While I was indifferent to it at a young age, as an adult I find it depressing. I don’t like micro-managing myself like that. For the longest time I thought I was stronger and better and smarter, that I would somehow be able to keep a mental log of everything I did, and I wouldn’t need any help in maintaining my willpower. But as I have grown more tired and consumed with illness and chronic pain, I have also become less mindful. I decided it was time to return to the journaling thing, something I haven’t done in over twenty five years.
At least I will try it for a while.
I found my old Wonder Woman journal on my closet shelf yesterday. How apropos, I thought to myself, as I gently wiped away the bit of dust that had settled on it. I know it sounds silly, but just looking at her on the cover does give me that much needed dose of total badassness.
I can stick with this.
I opened my journal, and before writing down anything else, like how I had a cup of coffee and a hard boiled egg and a can of V8 for breakfast, I wrote down one sentence to sum up the task: I am at the top of my to-do list. Suddenly the depressing ritual of writing everything down didn’t feel so depressing anymore.
I am taking the power back.
I am two days into writing stuff down. It seriously works. It holds me accountable, and it doesn’t feel like I’m micromanaging myself too much. If I eat it or drink it, whether it’s good for me or bad for me, it goes down in the journal no matter what. It doesn’t mean I can’t have sweet, yummy and fattening things. It only means I write it down. And if the writing-it-down condition helps me rethink some of my food choices, and gives me strength when moments of weakness loom, then for sure it’s worth it.
Hopefully I can keep this up, because I really do want to feel good, at least feel as good as I can. And I admit I want to look as good as I can, too, but the inside will always be the most important thing.
My inner super hero is up for the task.