Sabotage

This blog is going to be serious. For those of you who read this blog for entertainment and not necessarily to avidly follow my weight-loss journey, cheering from the sidelines, you can stop reading. Today we're going to address self-sabotage and why we (collectively meaning people trying to lose weight) often engage in this behavior. How many times have I gotten SO close to a goal just to kill it with a gallon of ice cream, some tacos, a burger...or all three? This behavior, folks, is much more common that I was once led to believe. While I realize I have a sniveling, whiny child in my soul in place of strong, iron-clad willpower, I think most people at some time in their life self-sabotage themselves from their goals--whatever those goals may be. What is it about ourselves that makes us stop when we get close? I think it's fear. Fear of what? No idea. I'm not scared to have a tight, perfect ass and a rock hard stomach. I'm not scared of a cholesterol level of 150. Maybe I'm scared to change my self-identity? Since I can remember, I was the least good-looking of my group of friends, but had a rock-star personality to make up for it. (Note: my friends are H-O-T, so by saying I'm the least good looking, I'm not saying I wasn't cute. It's kind of like being the dumbest person in Mensa....) So maybe my self-identity is tied to this weight. Or more probably, my LIFESTYLE is tied to this weight. If I can't come home with Mat and watch National Geographic with wine and Centro pizza, what will we do instead? What will I do with my hands when I'm not reaching in a bag of chips?

This conversation is stemming from the fact I'm fighting against self-sabotage right now. I can feel myself looking around for something yumm-o to put in my mouth while giving myself an excuse to sit on my fat butt in front of the TV. Recognition, I'm sure, is the first step towards stopping this process.  Having Little Bit as a friend is probably the second since she's great at dragging me (yes, physically, with her ~110-lb frame) out of my cube and into the gym. But how do I make sure I hit my April goal, or any other goal for that matter? I am seeking answers here.

For those of you who have bothered to read this far, I'll give you something to chew on as a reward:

40 is the only number that, in the English language, has all its letters in alphabetical order.

In other news: Carter is at that stage where he likes to bring you things. So by the end of everyday I'm surrounded with toys, shoes, an empty Scope bottle pulled out of the recycling bin, a spoon and about 20 of daddy's CDs which have been pulled off the shelf. Naturally I think this is the most adorable thing ever.