I just recently finished a diet bet with a friend, and we had been tracking our progress through our collaborative YouTube channel. I was hoping the diet bet would be a good way to rekindle the fire of motivation that’s supposed to be located in the general vicinity of my rear-end, but the sparks just weren’t catching.
While we were recording one of our weekly updates, we both let out slightly uncomfortable laughs of guilt and exhaustion. I was in the middle of training at a new job, she spends most of her day away from home for work, and both of us were/are dealing with our own versions of how-to-life syndrome. We’re tired, we’re confused, and quite frankly we were about as excited about working out at 5:00 a.m. as a five year old is about eating his vegetables.
So we spent some time venting to each other. Adulthood is hard, and especially so when you’re trying to learn how to throw healthy living into the mix of things you’re supposed to balance. But we didn’t want to just complain, we needed to figure out how we could get our motivation fires going again.
While we were talking about this, Amy said something that made a lot of sense: things like diet bets and little rewards and “punishments” for goals are fun, but if we don’t have an end goal in sight it’s a lot easier to give in and eat that piece of cheesecake.
So we kept going with this line of thought. Why do we want to lose weight? Is “to be healthy” too abstract of a reason? Is “so guys might notice me” an unhealthy reason? What is motivating us to lose weight, and is that motivating factor enough?
As we continued this part of our conversation I started remembering how I felt when I first started losing weight. In the beginning it wasn’t about my dress size. It wasn’t about how other people saw me or even about being at a “healthy body weight.” It started out as a journey to survive.
I weighed 400+ pounds, spent most of my time in doctors offices and ER waiting rooms from constant asthma attacks, and the mere thought of a flight of stairs made me wheeze. I could blame my weight on the steroids or my inability to exercise at that moment, but instead I decided to take responsibility for my own life. I wasn’t even 20 and I had to make a choice about living or dying. I chose to live.
Fast forward almost three years, 120+ pounds lost, and to a significantly smaller and healthier me. My lungs are not perfect but they are stronger. I like my body and can confidently say that I think I look sexy in a dress whether anyone else thinks so or not.
I don’t feel like I need to be fighting to survive anymore, but the reality is this: I still weigh over 250 pounds. My heart is healthy right now, but will it remain so if I stay at my current weight? I haven’t developed type II diabetes yet, but the chances of that happening are higher because of my weight.
We each get one body to live with. Some of how our bodies thrive or struggle has to do with genetics and circumstance, but in the end, for most of us, it comes down to a choice. I’m choosing to take care of my body, as broken as it is. It’s time to rekindle that fire, and I’m excited to see just how big it gets.
Comment Question: How do you find motivation to take care of your body? Whether that be to lose weight, gain weight, eat properly or exercise often. Let me know in the comment section below!