‘Only’ halfway: negative self-talk

I’ve lost twenty-two pounds. Twenty-two! When I lift a twenty-two pound dumbbell, it is a heavy thing! It is not something I want to carry around with me everywhere I go; it is something I want to set down and walk away from, feeling light and relieved.

Twenty-two pounds less of me means wearing skirts and dresses without tights, because my legs look better and more muscular.

Twenty-two pounds less of me means being able to turn sideways and fit into smaller spaces without fear of bumping things.

Twenty-two pounds less of me means bruises on my hip bones because I’m not used to having them stick out from my body.

Twenty-two pounds less of me means smaller clothing has become necessary; my old ‘favorite’ jeans are falling off.

Twenty-two pounds less of me means not feeling winded after climbing three flights of stairs at work.

Twenty-two pounds less of me means confidently swimming in Lake Union on the 4th of July with my fiancé.

Twenty-two pounds less of me means walking comfortably in high-heels on special occasions.

Yet I find myself looking at my weight chart, to see that I am ‘only’ halfway to my goal. I won’t be ‘done’ until mid-December, if I keep up this rate of loss. December feels so far away; it’s 85 degrees today. Small complaints rise from the peanut gallery in my mind, who have no business heckling me while witnessing the most dramatic transformation of my life, yet they are still audible and painful. Part of me still doesn’t see this as a complete change of how I live my life; part of me still thinks this is temporary and someday I’ll go back to binging on supermarket cupcakes and pints of ice cream, lulling myself into a carb-induced coma.

I don’t know what to do about all this negative self-talk. I’ve received extensive cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT) to help me cope with negative self-talk, but all the tricks can’t ease the general feeling of ennui toward keto that sometimes overwhelms my mind. It’s just not exciting, even though progress is steady. Maybe I need to bake something, or finally start adding exercise into the mix. I’m scared, though. Scared of falling into old habits if I combine exercise with this ‘diet’, scared of hospitals and jutting bones and becoming (even more) infertile.

Tonight I’m going to dinner with my fiancé, at the home of a nice couple he works with. He’s told them I’m doing keto, which is nice because I don’t like explaining my diet to acquaintances and always feel rude when refusing homemade food and often end up giving myself stomachaches for the sake of etiquette.

My goal for today is to keep the negative self-talk at bay by focusing on my progress, practicing self-care and baking some lovely ket-oreos! Photos to follow soon–if I can keep myself from devouring them all!

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