Tuesday, June 21, 2016

Keep it up.

The other day (maybe yesterday? I don't know. I have too many jobs and I'm tired) I posted a picture on Instagram. It was me in my bathing suit.

Scandalous, right? I know.

Except not really. It was just a picture. I almost didn't post it because I don't like how saggy my legs are and I don't like my Mammaw flaps (you know the old joke...when your Mammaw waves her arms just keep on going. Ha ha. Whatever). I decided to post it anyway. I like the picture. I've lost 210lbs. I should be allowed to be proud of that, no matter how many times I've tried to talk myself out of it.

I got a lot of nice comments. They made me happy. I know a lot of really nice people and for that I am very thankful.

One person I don't know commented "Keep it up".

I'm sure they meant in a nice way. Well, they probably did. I can't see any reason why they wouldn't. But it just seems like...I don't know.

I've talked about this before. I'm sure people don't mean, "Keep going, you still look like s**t and you need lots more work!" Well, some do. I've been the recipient of some pretty mean comments over the years. Most of them don't really have anything to do with my weight. I've found that it doesn't really matter what a woman weighs, someone will find fault with it. The internet makes people really brave. They say things they probably wouldn't say in real life (however, I've been also been the recipient of some pretty evil commentary directly to my face).

But when people say "Keep it up" or "Keep going", I'm honest to God not sure what they mean.

Like, do you think I still need to lose more weight? Because I'm probably not going to.

No really. I think I'm done. I think maintaining is probably what I should be doing now. Could I lose more weight? I don't know. Maybe. Do I want to? I don't think I do. I think I'm okay.

Maybe they are looking at my legs and thinking, JESUS GOD WORK ON THAT. Hint: I think that too. Without surgery, I don't know how much more I can do. I can leg press over 200lbs. Which is crazy. An old man at the gym told me I was a badass and I actually believed him. That's a lot. That's heavy. I used to carry that around on my body. It makes me feel weird. I can't lift weights that heavy. Yet. I lift a lot of weight though. I work on my flabby arms. I try. The skin is there. It just hangs there. I don't think it will ever go away.

Maybe they say those things because they think they are positive and encouraging. I like to think that's the reason. I also like to think...what is my alternative? It's sort of like when people congratulated me for being a mom and carrying on and stuff when my first husband walked out on me when I was pregnant. It also made me uncomfortable because really? I mean...really? What else was I supposed to do? I had to go on. I had to keep going. I had to do better.

My therapist tells me that not everyone thinks the way I do. That lots and lots of people just don't try and just give up.

I don't know. I think we all just do the best we can do. That's probably the dirty hippie in me.

There really isn't a point to this post. I don't even know why I wrote it. I'm just trying to process things I guess.

It's easier to change your body than your mind. I'm finding this out.

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