Pedometer Challenge: Day 3
This has been a long, long (long) day.
I’m sure we all have those days in which our jobs require far more from us than what was originally described when we went to the interview, and for me, today was definitely one of those days. Not only was the work day itself very hectic, but it also seemed to go on forever: I had extra meetings after the school day was over, as well as another function that kept me there until almost 8pm. Additionally, part of the evening involved me making various presentations to several large groups of people. Exhausting! But the worst part came after I was all finished giving my little schpeel.
Once my part of the dog and pony show was over, a few of my colleagues decided to introduce me to some of the people there. Fine. But during the midst of this conversation, one of the teachers started to tell people about how much weight I’d lost.
*cough*
Pardon me, but… (as the cool kids say) WTF??
When did my own personal struggle to not be like the woman from What’s Eating Gilbert Grape become public knowledge? And when did it suddenly become okay for *other* people to discuss my fatness and/or my recent reduction in fatness????
I know I must have just stood there looking ridiculous because well, I simply don’t tell people that I am trying to lose weight. Recently, a few people have noticed that I am getting a bit less rotund and have very carefully asked if I’ve been losing weight. To all of those inquiries I’ve very politely said yes and even told one person how much I’d managed to shed, but only after she backed me into a corner, shined a bright light in my eyes, donned her Russian accent and said “ve have vays of making you talk, dahlink!” (Or at least that’s how I choose to remember it).
Anyway, I think it’s pretty clear that word has spread.
Of course, I’m making light of the situation now, but in the moment it was so awkward. I just wanted to crawl under the table and hide for the rest of the evening.
I mean, obviously, I realize that the more weight I lose, the less able I will be to keep it a secret, but I guess I just wasn’t prepared for situations in which I would be *forced* to talk about it. I realize too that the woman who “outed” me, did so with absolutely no malice in her heart. In fact, she kept repeating one phrase over and over again: “We’re all very proud of her.”
*gulp*
They’re all very proud of me?
Who are they???
And now what happens if I let them down??????
Seriously, at this point, I totally started to freak out.
So… what did I do? Well, of course, I did what every rational, right minded, clear thinking individual would. I went over to the “buffet table” — the same buffet table that I’d successfully avoided all night long — and ate a piece of cake and drank a can of sugary soda. At this point, it is probably important to note that I *knew* in advance that there would be food at this event. So, like a good little fat fighter, I packed myself a sensible dinner. And, what’s more, I’d already eaten said sensible dinner. Which means that at the time of my emtional meltdown, (which could only be treated by cake, apparently), I’d already eaten and was, therefore, already full.
And you know what the worst part is?
I didn’t even like it. Seriously, I derived absolutely no pleasure from either of my high calorie “comfort foods.” In fact, the only thing I could think of the entire time I was eating (and drinking) them was that a) *they* are watching me right now and b) I am letting *them* down.
And here’s the thing… I *know* that these are the rantings of a mad woman. Believe me, I realize that these are seriously the kind of things that a crazy person does. Normal people do not have these kinds of twisted relationships with food. Nor do they spiral into bizarre bouts of mania when someone, ever so gently, forces themselves into their worlds.
*sigh*
Anyway, by the time I got home I was pooped. However, the situation turned from bad to worse when I checked the pedometer and realized that despite my busy day, I’d only taken 5800 steps. I’ll be honest, at first I just thought, “oh, fuck it.” But then I started to think about the challenge and the commitment I’d made to myself, not to mention the extra calories I’d managed to shovel into my mouth 
earlier in the evening, so I laced up my sneakers, fired up the old iPod and made my way around the .2 mile loop that goes around my house– over and over again until finally my pedometer gave me a number I could live with.
It’s funny, but I’ve read about people whose tendency it is to sabotage their own success… and tonight I’m left wondering if I’m one of those people. Was it the pressure of the evening that just got to me or am I the kind of person who secretly doesn’t believe that I have the right to be happy? I’m constantly telling myself that I am not an “emotional eater” and that I’m fat simply because I love food, but I’m not so sure that, after tonight, I can continue to go on believing my own bullshit.
The truth is, I don’t really understand what made me go apeshit tonight. I just know that despite the 10,000 steps forward that I may have taken today, it’s difficult to see anything more than the one GIANT step that I also took back.
