My parents returned from their vacation late last night. I was just barely asleep when I heard the sound of my stepdad's booming voice yelling at the dogs to come in. I sighed and tried to close my eyes again and drown out the sounds of rustling luggage, laundry getting started, and dogs pittering excitedly around the house. My own vacation was officially over. Last time I posted, I was a week into my heavenly respite and eating anything that was convenient. I was torn between fully enjoying the house to myself (with Billy of course) and trying to maintain a sensible diet. Enjoyment won out the first week but after doing mental battle in my head and in my blog, I regained some control and spent the next week making healthier choices. Billy and I actually had fun going grocery shopping and making wholesome dinners. He was losing weight, but actually eating right this time with my help, so that made me happy. I, on the other hand, was still maintaining and seemed to be stuck at the same weight. So maybe I should not have gone to that lil' ole bonfire party on Saturday.
My good friend Christy and her family host the amazing party every year. They save up all of their wood scraps, cardboard, and generally anything burnable for the entire year and put it in a gigantic pile on their yard. Friends and family come from miles and miles with their tents, campers, and coolers. Everyone sets up early and the day commences with the sound of cracking bottle tops, popping cans, and banshee cries of "WHOOO HOOO!!!" (Yes, one might call this a "redneck" party" and yes, I am proud to turn my neck red for the day). After an all day drink fest with some burgers and hot dogs wolfed down in between, the party-goers gather on the hillside for what is the true beginning of the festivities. Christy's dad and her uncle climb on the tractor and douse the epic wood/beer box pile with gasoline. They leave a little gas trail and then her mom runs down, tosses a match, and runs away like the wind. The next thing you know, there's an enormous "KA-BOOOOOM" and the flames are dancing as if it was the devil's birthday. And of course, all the hillbillies cheer, myself included. The rest of the evening is a blur of NASCAR hats, Journey songs, and flip cup (a very elegant drinking game I learned in college in which one must consume a shot of beer and then flip their cup over until it lands upside down, at which point the next player goes, and on and on). Doesn't this sound exactly like what someone working on a healthier lifestyle should be doing? Well I did. And it was awesome.
I tried to justify my very unhealthy evening by telling myself how great I did all week, and that I would get back on the wagon Monday. I told myself that once my parents got home, I would return to my pretty strict schedule of cooking meals and going to the gym. And I'm sure I will. But after stepping on the scale and seeing that I had gained back a couple of pounds (one that have taken me what feels like forever to lose), I just want to cry. There I go again, justifying and making excuses. I want to have fun...it's only one night...I'll do better next week. I bet my readers are even sick of hearing me say it, but bet they do it too. Ok, so my wedding is less than five months away and I'm pretty sure that dress isn't fitting yet. I did decide that with the help of the seamstress and the blessed Spanx, I had a little breathing room. But still! I don't want to make it worse before my first fitting even happens, do I?
I just feel like my head is all screwed up right now. I know what I need to do but I also feel stuck in the present. I am living in the moment and not considering the future too much. Why? What is keeping me from pursuing a goal that is so important to me with every bit of my strength and being? Deep down, do I not really want to lose the weight? Am I making things too complicated? I'm asking myself the right questions but right now I have no clue what the answers are. Unfortunately, this is the nature of weight loss struggles, and I will have to keep searching until I can find a comfortable conclusion. One thing is certain though...this thirty-one-year-old body can't support the "college mentality" anymore. Guess I will just have to keep sporting my ECU hoodie, and dreaming of the days when bonfires were a dime a dozen and flip cup was just the beginning of the night.
Published On: May 25, 2010