It seems to me that one of the best ways to improve your game is to get a coach. A professional who has been there, done that, will scrutinize your stroke and teach you to be a better golfer.
Except I need one for my food problems.
Food “issues”? Weight-loss? Struggles? What’s the correct verbiage here?
The problem is, people who lose weight and keep it off are statistically a very small group. This means they’re tough to find. Which leaves people who have never struggled with food trying to coach those of us who have, and we both know that is not a thing. I do not need some perpetually skinny person trying to identify with my inability to stop eating. They stop when they feel full or, as in the case of my husband, they stop sometimes when they’re bored. I can’t even. Know what makes me bored? Board games. Poorly written books. Telling my daughter to flush again (she’s five, I surmise I’ll be doing this for another dang decade), and my son that we’re going to the park for the fiftieth time in the last quarter mile.
It seems to me that even here on Tumblr, where there are a lot of us with “lifestyle” or “fitness” or whatever blogs, that we fall off the wagon more often than we’d like to admit. Then we get re-motivated and yell “PULL UP THOSE BOOTSTRAPS!” like we’re actually going to be perfect this time and what’s wrong with you losers going through the McDonald’s drive thru, even though that was us just yesterday.
I can say it all because I’ve done it. I’ve been cooking along (not literally, almost never literally) and losing weight and what’s wrong with all you fatties?! Be like me! And then I’ve had down times, like now, where I just. Can’t. Get. My. Act. Together.
Part of it is perfectionism. The ridiculous and errant desire to be perfect. I still cling to it in the echoing deep dark chambers of my foolish heart. My head knows perfectly well (ha ha, see what I did there, unintentional too!) that perfection isn’t a thing.
Part of it is habit. Even though I can’t at the moment make myself stop eating for any reason short of a donut (which truly defeats the point, because then do I get to eat the donut or what?) I still work out all the time. Six days a week. Why? Because of habit. Because over the course of roughly ten years I’ve learned to love it for myriad reasons.
So at least there’s still that. Although were I to find a coach, she’d sit me down and say “ok let’s talk exercise” and probably be a bit weirded out that I exercise and love it. I think that’s abnormal for Americans. But I never was a study in normalcy (thanks Amazon woman height of 5′11″!) so carry on.
I don’t need a fancy diet. I don’t want to exclude fruit or carbs or sugar or dairy or gluten or whatever, although I’m willing to under reasonable circumstances. I want to learn that elusive magic called moderation. Moder-frickin-ation, baby. Eat like a smart person 80% of the time, enjoy treats the other 20%. Or something. Maybe more like 90% smart when you’re losing weight. But you get the idea.
What’s that like? I assume it’s like when I’ve had ¾ of a beer and feel totally fine leaving the rest on the table. That’s moderation in action, baby! But why can’t that work for food?
It’s complicated, I know. It is for all of us, and for different reasons, probably why it’s a national epidemic and all that. Still. If you know a guy/girl, send them my way. I need some coaching all up in this hizzle. (I have no idea actually how to say that. Obviously.)