At Island Burgers & Shakes: “Yes, I’d like a side of cottage cheese with some celery please. Oh, and then kill me.”

It was a rock bottom moment. A lot of people speak about bottoming out, getting to that hellacious place where they decide, “I’m not going to live this way anymore.” Then they commit to doing something about it. For good this time. Really. The intention is there, but we still can’t help but wonder, “Yeah, how long will this last?” Because there’s motivation and then there’s cheesecake.

My rock bottom was actually a high, an all-time high. I didn’t need a scale to prove it. None of my clothes fit. There’s nothing worse than a closet FULL of nothing to wear. So I started to wear dresses to the supermarket–not a housecoat, mind you. Who even owns a housecoat? But there I was in a cocktail dress and flip flops squeezing melons and smelling the bottoms of pineapples. It’s all that fit. “Wow, aren’t we dressed up!”

Normal response to this statement:

Oh, thank you. Or perhaps, Yeah, I just felt like playing the part of girl today. Or even the overused, Time to do laundry!

My response:

Eat me.

Beginnings are easy and hard all at once. The beginning of a commitment to new eating and exercise habits, for example, is easy in that you’re super motivated. This is it. This time it will work. You take measurements and ghastly “before pictures” where you refuse to smile, and hell with it, stick out your buddha, flaunt your puckered hams. You memorize the food guidelines, sign up with a personal trainer, hit the bookstore for cookbooks, join an online community, and scour the web for snack ideas. It’s a fun new project! You might, if you’re psycho like I am, create a scrapbook dedicated to your weigh-ins, filing away your food journals for that week, complete with a special section called Cravings, where you’ll find “non-food rewards,” images of the outfits, jewelry, and handbags you’ll buy yourself every ten pounds along the way. Beginnings are easy because you know that dumpy photo of you will make a great “This was me before.” And the idea of that makes me incredibly sad. Because the “before you” is awesome. I hate all the implications and judgments we smack on ourselves.

Burger from DB Bistro, stuffed with Foie Gras

Beginnings are hard because you abandon the familiar. You’re rewiring your brain, creating new pathos. You’re resisting temptation, and quite frankly, knowing you have to do it makes you an angry, resentful, asscap. Sure you try adopting the mindset that you don’t have to, you choose to. But that’s bullshine. When your husband is eating a cheeseburger deluxe with well-done fries and you have to order a turkey sandwich with no sandwich it’s have to. No one’s going to be happy about ordering a side of cottage cheese in place of potatoes.

And then there are, what I refer to as, “Private Benjamin moments.” Where in this sweep of newness, we’re inspired to do something insane, akin to when Goldie Hawn joins the army when her husband dies. And I went there. I signed up for a month of hotass 90-minute yoga classes–of which, I attended one.

Yes, this warranted a re-post. Sometimes the re-blog serves as a thigh master warning that while you’ve been there, failed at that, at least now you’re doing so with perseverance.