I have to start somewhere.

I love fresh starts but I hate beginning anything new.  I like the idea of new adventures and new hobbies and great! big! undertakings, but I’ve realized that when I’m at the starting line waiting for the gun to go off, I’m usually wishing I was already making myself comfortable in the middle.  The new student, the new employee, the new neighbor, the new journal with blank pages—it can all be extremely overwhelming for a perfectionist.  Because there is NO ROOM FOR ERROR.  Don’t make a mistake or everything will be ruined and you’ll have to *gasp* start all over again.

I’m trying to let go of my All Or Nothing attitude.  Sometimes it is necessary to go to extremes.  Taking a chance on love, for instance, should never be half-assed.  Ever.  I don’t think you can be “kind of” in love.

But most often my extremist ways have been detrimental.  Case in point:

I’m 5’8″.  I weigh 235 lbs.  I’ve started diets and “lifestyle changes” repeatedly and I have absolutely rocked them.  For two weeks.  And then I’m faced with a yummy treat and instead of dipping my toe in the water to test the temperature I dive right in and say to hell with the diet!  I should love and accept myself the way I am!  And so will begin (again) the fat acceptance movement in my head.  I eat jovially and voraciously as a fuck you to every person who ever judged me based on my appearance.  Then months later, my pants are tight and I have nothing to wear and I’m so self-conscious and I can’t search for the television remote without getting winded.  So I buy a book or fitness DVD or join a gym or buy some running shoes.  I buy LowFat cookbooks and subscribe to Cooking Light and Runner’s World.  I’m inspired!  I’m motivated!  I’M GOING TO REALLY DO IT THIS TIME!

Until I catch the next piece of cake in the crosshairs.  I pull the trigger as if I’ve forgotten.  Boom.

A piece of cake.  A piece of pie.  A piece of ass.  It has never taken much to trip up my perfectly planned steps.

Perfect.  Impossible.  I know this.  It’s time I start living it.

FACTS:

*I’m not healthy.  I have mild hypertension and my BMI is 35.7.

*I can’t fit into 2/3 of the clothing in my closet.

*I’m unhappy with my body because it can’t do the things I want to do.

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