Like so many other fine folks, I’m working on losing the pounds I gained over the holidays — so no earth-shattering weight loss news this week, but it’s coming, folks. I’ll be in the Century Club (100 pounds down) before I know it.
Mine is in the act of apologizing.
So, let me cut to the chase: I’ve got a bit of a rant. Generally speaking, it’s about the way we approach weight loss and related issues, and the inference by the diet industry that we’re not good enough unless we fit a certain set of standards. Of all people, I was surprised to hear Oprah Winfrey start a commercial for Weight Watchers with this statement: “Inside every overweight woman is a woman she knows she can be.”
Later, she addresses getting buried under the weight, failures after losing, and problems that most overweight people are familiar with. I can identify with some of that. I find the initial statement she made dangerous, though. Like Oprah, I’ve yoyo dieted for decades. I’ve lost great amounts of weight, only to regain them. And what I’m discovering, now, doesn’t echo her statement at all; I’m not somehow waiting, cloistered, inside this fat body, idealizing some distant creature I hope to become.
That’s a passive picture; a woman dreaming of what she can become, if only certain things happen for her. Under the surface, it carries the implication that we’re not good enough people until we meet that imaginary standard, and pairs it with the subtle idea that making that change will be something that just happens once you make the commitment.
Successful weight loss doesn’t just happen; it requires active, steadfast work toward concrete and reasonable goals. It also requires self-acceptance and personal honesty throughout the entire process, not simply an image of I’m not good enough unless I’m that person I imagine I can become. One of the most important things I’ve had to do is accept myself, as I am, at every point during my weight loss. That’s not easy; not in the least.
The idea that there’s some woman I’m waiting to become is dangerous fiction; I’m already her. I was her a hundred pounds ago, and I’ll still be her when I’ve lost another hundred. Sure, my packaging is changing, but that’s my physical description, not the person I am at my core. I might be less inclined to do many things at a heavier weight — either by choice or necessity — but that doesn’t change who I am, and who I’ve always been.
If you believe you’re horrible and you’ll be horrible unless you’re some imaginary size 6 version of your dream self, all you do is build the case for your failure — because even if you reach that imaginary dream size, you’re going to still believe you’re not good enough. I know. I’ve been there, time and time again.
The first and biggest battle of any success? Understand who you are, right now, and know that regardless of your circumstances, being true to the person you’ve always been is the primary choice you make toward success. I still struggle with the concept of not good enough, but with each step, each time I stand and fight, that changes just a bit more.