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About motivation

April 23, 2008

As someone who struggles to stay motivated to keep up with a fitness routine and healthy eating habits, I know I will be able to benefit some crappy day from what’s in my head this morning. Maybe someone else can, too.

I knew heading into this weight-loss quest that, once I got rolling and the pounds started dropping, I’d have no problems keeping it up.

Yes, I remember my recent post about fear and sabotage. Believe me, I remember. The thing with that, though, was it was a moment (period of time?) of weakness. I was frustrated because the scale wouldn’t budge despite the fact that I was working out, and I took out my frustration and fear that I was surely failing on whatever food I could find.

Like I wrote then, though, I’ve moved past that.

So about motivation. I know I started blogging about losing weight on here with the intention of rewarding myself with things when I hit certain goals. Things, though, can’t make me feel any better than I do right now.


First, the scale this morning (yes, still checking it every day) read 151.2. I can’t even remember the last time I saw that number. I know it’s been at least three years (awful to think about, but this is positive time).

Each pound I drop puts me that much closer to my goal. Not only am I losing weight, but I’m losing distance from my goal (I hope that makes as much sense to you, reader, as it does in my head). And strange as it seems (or maybe just strange to me), the lower the number on my scale reads, the more I want – truly want – to work out.

Take yesterday, for example: The morning scale reading was 153.2 – fine. When I got home after work, I was thisclose to talking myself out of working out. I was tired. My allergies were bugging me. Relaxing on the couch with a book sound so much more appealing than breathing heavy and sweating. But since I always change from my work clothes when I get home, I hopped on the scale after undressing and before I put on my comfy clothes. I know I normally “gain” at least 2 pounds from morning to night. I don’t know what it is – water, food, whatever – but it’s normal. But yesterday afternoon, the scale read 154.0.

So my logic said that number should have been higher, and since it wasn’t, my body must have been doing what I’ve been begging it to: It was shedding weight. And if I was lower than normal without working out, a workout would push my body even further.

So instead of comfy clothes, I changed into my workout clothes and hit the elliptical.

And I saw the results this morning. I’m now 3 pounds from weighing 10 percent less than when I started losing weight. I’m also 6 pounds from being within the normal BMI range. Those numbers are hardly daunting. They’re quite achievable, in fact. I’m not really close to my finish line – more like half-way there – but I’m at least close to some really great check points.

Another part of what motivates me also gave me a boost this morning is just how I feel. I notice that there’s less of me and that my shape is more attractive, and that makes me feel awesome.

Again, I’m far from where I want to be, but I’m also so far from where I was. I don’t feel fat. I don’t feel thin, but I don’t feel fat. I feel normal. I feel like I blend better with the normal-looking crowd – the ones who walk through life without drawing any judgmental stares from other passersby.

Today I’m wearing a pair of form-fitting black pants and a not-baggy sweater. You can definitely see my body in it, and that doesn’t bother me. Before I started losing weight, the purpose of my clothes was to cover up all the extra chub I was carrying. Today, my clothes are meant to compliment how good I look.

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