Guilt

Warning: My main focus at the moment is my health/weight. Read on at your own risk.

The transition from guilt to excuse is a quick one for me.

When I feel a bit flat, or bored, or just tired (mostly the latter) I get lazy and my good intentions falter, my standards drop. I slob around, let my flat get messy and adopt a ‘who gives a shit’ attitude. It’s not very nice.

This mood usually ends up with a few nights of high-fat, high-calorie, takeaway dinners.

I know I shouldn’t do this. I know I shouldn’t eat what I do, I’m very very aware of that, and in that respect I’m no different to anyone else who isn’t happy with their weight. I’m very aware of everything I eat. All the time.

On days where I’m determined and my willpower reserves are high, it’s not an issue but it’s still there. That quick, instant, thought of ‘should I eat this?’ never really goes away, how could it? Weight loss isn’t instant and I’ve never lost enough to NOT have some form of beer belly, so I have a constant reminder right here in front of me (currently wedged up against the desk). Every single day.

Every. Single. Day.

It’s a constant battle, trying to suppress or ignore the voice in my head that tells me I’m hungry when I’m not, or that I need chocolate, or pizza, when I don’t.

And those times, those ohh too frequent times, when I succumb? The voice changes to that of a gently scolding parent, admonishing me, making me feel guilty.

Quickly followed by the excuse… tomorrow I’ll be better.

But tomorrow isn’t better, not often enough at least.

That said, sometimes things click into place. Last year it was better for a while, but then it slipped away, as my willpower reserves were depleted (my new job was the largest impact on this by far, but that’s just another excuse, isn’t it).

So for the last 6 months I’ve been guilty.

Caught between knowing I need to change, knowing I need to do something, to be better, and yet completely unable to do much about it.

Guilty as charged.

But guilt is not a motivator, not for me, so on Friday last week when my Doctor suggested, after telling me that I needed to lose weight, that I should “go home, feel guilty and come back in six weeks with some weight loss” … well I was speechless.

I took to Twitter to voice my disbelief.

It took me (with a lot of help from Kirsty) until late Saturday evening to even feel up to cracking a smile, and it’s only today that I’m finally coming round to the view offered by Lyle.

I will go back to the doctor’s in six weeks.

I will stand on the scales and he will see weight loss.

And, silently, I will mouth the words, fuck you.

Fuck you Doctor.

Fuck you guilt.

One comment

  1. It can be a powerful motivator, when handled right. (It can also be a dirty great timebomb, but that’s another story) And it’s good for those negative “Oh, you won’t [x]” ones.

    Telling me I won’t succeed at [task x]? Fuck you, I bloody well will.
    Telling me I won’t pass [x] test? Fuck you.
    Calling me down for being too fat/heavy/unfit? Fuck you. (But wait while I get my breath back.)

    I hope it works for you, dude. If not, well, fuck you too. *grin* (More seriously, you know where I is for further motivational gems/discourse – and I think I’m seeing you at the end of the month, too)

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