Reattaching the Hitch

 

This is funny. You know it is. Many of us have been there. Many of us are there right now. I skipped out on New Year’s Resolutions this time around because I know this is the exact track I’d be on. I’ve got intentions and declarations instead.

Don’t worry. I’m not sitting on my high horse. I’m looking for the wagon I jumped out of last night and trying to reattach the hitch so I can get started with my daily effort to just keep trying. Point is, the ecard image is funny in that way the good comics can turn pain into laughter and tears into brilliant analogies.

Been There. Got the T-Shirt. And now the T-shirt doesn’t fit because those brownies kept calling our name.

So we lie to ourselves, tell our taste buds that raw celery is our favorite food, and try again. We deprive ourselves more and eat less and work out harder and hope like hell that when we get on the scale again that it tells us nice things that we can post to our social media outlets for whatever hastagged fitness commitment we publicly stated we would follow through on and at first it’s pedal to the medal and guns blazing and we are in it to fucking win it and then all of a sudden (but not) the updates appear a bit less frequently until they’re gone. Then we gain the 15 pounds expected of us by the magazine and newspaper headlines and the New Year is upon us and with it comes The Pressure from Everyone Else that ironically Everyone Else is also feeling because in their eyes, you’re judging them just as much as you think they are you (and maybe that’s true).

So we make promises of hope and thinner waistlines and smaller asses and This Is My Year and I’m Sticking To It No Matter What and maybe it works. Maybe it doesn’t. Either way, the headlines will read the same.

I can’t handle The Pressure. Not the kind that comes from Everyone Else, at least. I’m too busy dealing with my own. And once upon a time, I was able to make it all go away and find my happy place where the colors were brighter and everybody loved everybody else and I woke up every morning smiling because I was happy and healthy and pressure didn’t matter because I had thrown it to the wayside when I got rid of my scale.

Obviously, I’m not in my happy place right now. And I miss it.

A Facebook friend commented on the image on my timeline. It’s her comment that actually inspired what you see here.

That’s what happened to me last year. For the first time ever, my resolution was to diet. Not only didn’t I lose weight, but I gained 10 pounds. I finally lost 8 but I’m still 2 above last year’s starting point. My goal this year is to walk at least three times a week starting next week. If weight loss comes with that… great.
My response? It was brilliant. Inspiring. The stuff that spawns book deals (shut up. A girl can dream, right?)
Forget the number. Seriously. Focus on how you FEEL. Physically and about yourself. It’s easier says than done and staying in that place is a total bitch, but if you can get there just once, you’ll want to keep trying when you aren’t.
Except I wasn’t just talking to her. And we both knew it. So my iPhone told me that Facebook had a new update for me. Melissa suggested I write this on my bathroom mirror.
I wrote it here instead.
Pauline Campos contributes to Funny Not Slutty, Owning Pink, and 30 Second Mom. She blogs three times a week at Aspiring Mama (or when she remember to take her Adderall) and is the founder of Girl Body Pride.