High Five, You Only Had 6 Thin Mints

I didn't think this was going to be the post I was writing this week, but I decided if I can sit here and talk about keeping your goals, staying on track, planning your meals, and getting your butt to the gym - I can talk about what happens when you hit the point I've been at this week.

This week, I just feel yuck.

I feel like my progress is slipping. I feel like despite planning my meals, and eating well, and working out 6 days a week, I'm still smooshy. I feel like the strong changes I was seeing week after week in the last three months are stalemating, and even reversing.

Yeah, I had some cookies. I definitely had some homemade mac & cheese. I had pizza, poutine, and chocolate mousse. Oh, and I had Starbucks.

And I am feeling it. I feel like I am seeing it.

I'm still working, I'm still planning. I'm not throwing my hands up and calling it quits. But I'm finding day after day, that I'm looking in the mirror and just thinking, oh man.

That's so stupid, right? That's so ridiculous.

It is, I know it is. I know when I workout for an hour, and get my sweat on, and get my butt kicked by my trainer, I know it is ridiculous. And even when I weighed myself at the gym the other day, and I'm down two pounds (big deal, who cares, I know,) but even then, I know it is ridiculous.

So what is it then? What leaves this little nagging voice of inadequacy even when we know we are doing everything we can for ourselves?

Well, guilt for one.

And comparison, for another.

But heck if those two aren't a bear to eliminate. Guilt, well I've been working on that one for a long time. I know, logically, that there is no sense in feeling guilty for eating poutine. Because poutine was created by Canadian angels and we should all be so lucky to enjoy it. I know that if workout 5 days, or 6 days, instead of 7 days in a week, there should be 0% guilt in my brain.

That isn't how it always works though. Especially right now, I'll be honest. I am actively working on telling myself to not feel guilty that I'm probably going to eat out tomorrow. I'm actively working on telling myself that just because I had some cheese - some Dakin Farms smoked delicious piece of heaven, cheese - last night, it doesn't negate the fact that I also had a totally well-thoughtout, nutritionally proportionate meal.

It is hard work. That is intentional, constant, purposeful work. And sometimes it doesn't work.

That is probably the best time for comparison to weasel his way in there. When you're already feeling guilty, and slightly defeated, and like crap I'm so not getting where I want to be going.

Comparison, boom, grand entrance.

Eliminating that one is tough too. Because of Instagram, and Facebook, and Snapchat, and every other medium where you can look at one single moment of someone's journey, and compare it to your own. Which is stupid, which we know. So as many times as you can say, run your own race, and don't compare your beginning to someone else's middle, and blah blah blah - that may not change anything. That may not ever make the comparison game easier.

Now you already know, I'm struggling with these right now, so take this as you will. But there are two things that seem to work, and work well, when you're trying to get back into that sweet spot of heck yeah look at me go, killing it at life! 

Put your blinders on.

Start being extra nice to yourself.

Actively do your best to stop looking at what others are doing, and how they are progressing, and what they are eating, and how many sets they are doing. That isn't going to help you get better anyways. If you are sitting around looking at everyone else, you aren't working on you. So really, you're just wasting time.

Then, when you are actively working on you, be really nice. I mean, think about this, all the things we say to ourselves when we look in the mirror, or drive home from work, or finally cave and have dessert - we wouldn't say them out loud, and we sure as heck wouldn't say them to someone else. Why bother with that kind of internal narrative?

You know what's way more fun? Complimenting yourself for that fancy dinner plate with loads of veg and healthy proteins. Giving yourself a high five for getting out of bed on time. Saying a little hallelujah because your muscles are still sore. Heck, you know what? Throw out a little girl, ya look good every once in a while. It helps. I promise.

I don't think there will ever come a time where I am happy with how I look - every inch, every cell - every single day. That's unrealistic. But remembering that I am so much happier than I used to be. And remembering how freakin hard I have worked to create this body, and enjoy this body for what it can do - that helps. That forces some needed perspective, that forces a little more appreciation and a little less guilt.

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