Uhhh!!!! I don’t even know that I want to discuss this. For
as long as I can remember my mother has been pushing me to exercise, be more
active and watch what I eat. She enrolled me in sports camps, took me walking
with her on mornings and tried to get me up and moving. I hated it! I hated her
for making me do it and as much as she kept pushing the problems that weight
cause in my face I really did not want to do anything that I didn’t want to do.
There is something about lying in bed and reading a book,
getting lost in the words, the characters and their stories that could keep me
going for hours. I remember the days when I would skip meals just to finish a
book. Do any of you remember when Sweet Valley University first came out? I
would be in Cave Shepherd (A Barbadian department store) every Saturday as a
new one became available. Buy the book in the morning, get home and not leave
my room until I had finished reading every word. Even further back, I loved
going to the supermarket with my granddad; he would shop and I would stand at
the front of the store and read as many books as I could while waiting for him
near the cash registers. Does any of that sound like a girl who likes moving
around and sweating? NO!!! Exercise was not for me!!!
Then, my next love was food, or it became that way over
time. OMG!!! Chips (fries for some), chicken, cake, shrimp, burgers, bread,
macaroni pie, sweet potato pie, fish cakes… ok I need to stop, my stomach is growling.
Please note that nowhere in there did you hear carrots, beans, eddoes,
broccoli… EWWW!!!! No! No! No!!! Vegetables were not to be done either.
Well a lot of that has certainly changed, not all of it but
some of it. There are still some vegetables that turn my stomach whether it is
because of their texture, smell or just because they are green. But I eat
lettuce now (you cannot imagine how big a step that is!); furthermore, I cook
vegetables for myself and eat them – usually smothered with meat but I eat
them. And … I get up on the cold mornings and I leave the flat and I
walk/run/jog/shuffle along in an attempt to manage my weight. Groan. I do not
do this because I like it, I still hate it; I do not do it because I am finally
listening to my mother. As with most things in life, I do it because I have
made a decision and there are certain things that I never want to experience
again.
I never want to stand in front of my wardrobe again and cry
because nothing fits, nothing looks good and to save myself the humiliation
just stay at home. I never want to sit on a plane again and the chair handles
hurt because I am too broad. I do not want to walk up slight inclines and be
out of breath. There are just some lessons you have to learn alone, and there
are just some things that no one can make you do. You have to want them for
yourself. So I do this crap, which I still hate, for me.
Despite how wonderful that sounds and how committed and firm
my tone, it is still a huge struggle. I come to a country where all of the
things I LOVE to eat are so easily and readily available: tiramisu, chocolate
cake, profiteroles, roast duck in plum sauce, prawn crackers … ok I need to
stop again. With all that is available, I don’t want to stop eating … so I am
seeking balance. Indulgence on occasion (supposedly rare occasions), eating
healthy (most often) and trying so hard to sweat (at least four times a week)…
Uhhh!!
So often I just want to quit and say to hell with it, I will
eat whatever I want, lay in bed and read or catch a few more minutes snuggled
under my quilt, and honestly some days that part of me wins. But there are
other days, and I try to make them number more than the indulgent ones, where
practicality and all the things I don’t want to happen again win too and I
swear myself out of bed—“Come on, move your fat self, Tara…MOVE!” And then I
figure if I have put in so much work walking/running/jogging/shuffling that I
shouldn’t spoil it by eating badly. I don’t think I will ever be perfect or get
it all right, but I am trying really, really hard for balance.
