I was up and on the train at stupid o’clock yesterday morning due to work commitments a long way south of home, and you know what, I quite like being on the train these days, now my larger-than-average body actually fits in the seats.
I’ve got to be honest, it still feels like I’ve won the lottery every time I sit down and admire the gap between my arse and the armrest, or my belly and the table in front of me. I’ve even stopped bitching about having to travel in cattle-class, since I no longer hold an unshakable belief that the seats are made for munchkins.
So anyway, it was way too early to think about getting on with some work, and I found my eyes wandering about the carriage. I spent a lot of time admiring my new scarf in the reflection thrown back by the window every time we went through a tunnel. Let me tell you about the scarf…it was my non-food treat, awarded to me by me in exchange for achieving nothing.
I know…that’s a novel idea, right? I sort of bent the rules a bit, and tried to figure out a way of treating myself even in the face of weight-loss inertia. And hey presto, along came a genuine flash of inspiration.
Yes the needle has stayed put for the last three weeks, but I decided that a treat was appropriate anyway, for not going into meltdown about it. Fair’s fair after all, I mean in times gone by that would have definitely invoked fat girl rule #232 which clearly states In the event that things don’t go your way proceed immediately to the hobnobs and fill ya boots...
Truth is, I really wanted the scarf so it was a win-win outcome, right? It’s Alice Shirley’s Zebra Pegasus design, which I have coveted for the longest time so it seemed like a fabulous solution…take a shit situation and find something positive in it, thereby defusing the frustration by providing an excuse to indulge yourself with something you really want. I’m all over that as a concept.
So the scarf had its first outing yesterday and every time I looked down at it, or caught its reflection in the window it reminded me of the huge strides I’ve made in terms of the way I deal with stuff when it doesn’t go my way. It felt good, you know? And I think I just switched another lightbulb on in my head. Instead of beating myself up for not losing an ounce, I rewarded myself for dealing with it like a grown-up. For not losing focus, or worse still, hope.
That vortex of guilt and comfort-seeking that we can all get sucked into when we perceive that we’ve failed at something goes away as if by magic, when we get distracted from the failure by finding something to celebrate in the outcome. And given that just about every mistake comes with a learning opportunity, and every situation can be viewed with a range of perspectives I’m pretty sure the concept will work across the board.
Isn’t it amazing how something which sounds so obvious now has eluded me for the whole of my fat life? The important thing is, I see it now, and like all the other light bulbs which have illuminated the path to Skinny Town it means I’m less likely to stumble over whatever bumps in the road lie ahead.
Onwards into the light, right chaps? ?
