92.6

ninety two point six

As in kilograms...

As in the mass of my body...

As in when the fuck did that happen?

Okay the last question is unnecessary. I know when and I know how, but still... why did I let it get to this point? Never mind the aesthetics, that is not healthy. But then again I probably haven't been healthy for the last 7ish years or so bar for a few sporadic episodes here and there. At 1.64 metres tall my healthy weight is somewhere between 60 and 64 kgs and I can't remember when last I weighed anywhere near those amounts.

So let me state the obvious here, but I think it is important. I know that this was a choice, MY choice, every bite of food, every time I ignored the fact that I was full and kept eating anyway, every time I didn't exercise, every time I turned away from the mirror instead of facing the truth - all of those moments stemmed from a choice that I made not to put my health first, I am accountable and it stands to reason that the path back to health will be paved by my choices too (better ones of course).

The thing is that I didn't wake up one day with a figurative light bulb above my head saying "I know, let's get fat and be unfit and unhealthy"* I know I wouldn't have done that because despite my current deep neglect of myself and my appearance I am surprisingly self-centred and vain. I didn't CHOOSE to be fat. Well... not directly anyway. I chose convenience, I chose taste, I chose comfort, I chose lots and lots of comfort. 

*I realise that fat does not necessarily equal unfit and/or unhealthy, but in my case it certainly does.

And so here I am, looking down indignantly at the numbers on the scale, wondering how it is that I got here - even though I know exactly how.

My first thought is to berate and belittle myself and a few months ago if I had had the strength to face the scale that is precisely what I would have done, but now after months and months and months of therapy I can't seem to talk to myself that way anymore. I got upset, yes, but I didn't treat myself badly because of it, I wallowed in the state of realising where I was and then once I was ready to start to let go of the self pity I started to consider what I would need to do to fix it. That was uncomfortable because as simple as it sounds "yes just fix it" it isn't anywhere near as simple as I would like it to be, I found this out while wading through thick sticky denial and self-indulgent retorts of "but I don't want to" which sounded a whole lot like my 6 year old when she gets told to tidy up. It isn't a whole lot of fun and laughs now is it?

I have pretty good reason not to want to fix it though. My track record of "fixing it" involves a mosaic of strict dieting, restrictive eating, excessive exercise, hunger, bulimia, fasting, diet pills and laxatives (all used in various different combinations at different times). All of my tried and tested methods thus far are not kind, in fact they have all been downright destructive and I am sure must have resulted in some metabolic damage somewhere. In an essence my self-esteem is shot. I wish it was possible to grab that teenage girl paging through the magazines earmarking the pages flaunting the models with the bodies she wishes to have and tell her that she is already perfect and beautiful. She never needed to change herself to be lovable. She didn't know that though.

The difference I have at this point in my life is that I know that I don't need to change so that I can be loved. I am already loved and lovable just the way I am. I want to change because I am physically tired and unfit and unhealthy and feeling this way is just no way to live and enjoy life. Now I just need to find a way to do it that doesn't involve destroying myself and that is going to require a great deal of my energy and awareness. I do think that it will be worth it though.