I have a small stroke every time I realize that I probably weigh more now than I did the last time I saw someone, especially if it has been months or years. I am aware that 5-10 pounds probably isn’t that noticeable. But I always spend far too much time wondering how awful people must think I look. To fend this off, I often attempt a crash diet, or increase my exercise routine to try to get down to whatever it was I thought I weighed the last time I saw someone. 

This time, it’s one of my best friends, and certainly my longest close friendship. Fifteen years, more than half of my life, is no joke. Of course she’s not going to judge me for being heavier than the last time I saw her. I don’t even know if I am, although, it’s highly likely. I’ll reunite with her in 10 days and I can feel the anxiety creeping in already. 

This massive exercise slump is not helping anything. My motivation is almost at zero. I have not been this inactive…ever. I think it started with December depression, continued through January and now suddenly it’s February and I have settled for a below-average workout schedule. That being, no schedule; and merely, a quick dog walk and 2-3 days of a short run. I did 20 push-ups on Sunday and was sore for 2 days. I am incredibly out of shape, and quickly becoming morose, but still not doing anything about it. What is wrong with me? 

I am pretty sure if I would just exercise regularly this anxiety would go away. But everything is black-and-white and I can’t just do things in the middle. I have to be working out everyday or not at all. I have to be obsessed to be motivated. And if I’m not obsessed, and I’m not motivated, I’m depressed. WHY. 

3 thoughts on “Perceived Excessive Fat

  1. “I have to be obsessed to be motivated. And if I’m not obsessed, and I’m not motivated, I’m depressed.” You stole the unspoken thoughts from my head and wrote them down.

    Perhaps, if I might conjecture for both of us, it’s because we developed this extreme behavior as a coping mechanism for extremely negative environments, and we have lost the ability to function normally when things are, well, more normal. It feels like depression. Less-than-perfection, less-than-everything-you’re-draining-yourself-to-give feels like failure.

    Functioning in crack-hamster mode leads, eventually, to burnout, and then you have the motivation to get yourself well again. When you’re not in that upward or downward push, you feel useless, because you don’t know how else to be.

    I believe it takes time to find that balance. I believe we both have a spitting change to do so. x


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