Whoa, Tara!!!

Fear of making goal?!?

Don’t you mean Fear of NOT making goal weight?!?

Okay, seriously who’s is afraid of making goal? I mean when we start this LCJ and we look down at the scale for the first time in God only knows how long and see a number like 263 screaming back at us, the first thought we usually have is “I’m never going to make it down to my goal weight of (insert number here)”. For me that number is 170. When I sat down and did what most people do when we have no idea how to get started (googled “weight range”, got to Calorie King, filled out the questionniare and got a healthy range of between 119 – 171), I picked the higher end of the range because anything below 170 seemed too scary to think about.

Even in the beginning 170 seems unattainable. My highest weight was 270 and now I’m being advised via some random website that losing 100 pounds would be ideal. I remember stepping off the scale and thinking “well that’s NOT gonna happen any time soon – if ever”. I mean for Pete’s sake I hadn’t been below 200 in over 15 years and I think the last time I saw 170 I was a sophomore in high school. But I didn’t let that deter me this time around. I stopped thinking about the big picture and focused on much smaller goals. Instead of the final 100 pound goal, I looked at this journey in 5 pound increments. Each time I lost 5 pounds, I moved on to the next 5. I never focused on that 170 number…

Because I never truly believed I’d get there.

Today I look down at the scale and instead of thinking “it’s never going to happen”, I’m thinking “holy sh*t, it’s right there in front of me”. For close to 10 months everything about me has been this weight loss journey. Every waking moment whether conscious or not has been about making the necessary changes to be healthier in all aspects of my life. Physically, mentally and emotionally. But, truth be told I never in a million years expected to be looking down at the scale and instead of seeing 263 see numbers that began with 17(insert random number here cause I’ve seen them all except zero).

The last five pound goal is right in front of me.

And yet, for over a month I’ve been stuck between 174 – 176. You can call it what you want (plateau, maintenance, stall). I call it plain old fear. The fear of succeeding. The fear of having to believe in myself. The fear of what’s next. The fear of “wait a minute, this is all I’ve known for close to a year”. The fear of living “thin”. The fear of people looking at me and not seeing Fat Tara anymore. The fear of not finding comfort in a 1/2 gallon of ice cream. The fear of knowing the words “Super Size” would never be coming out of my mouth again. The fear of actually losing 100 pounds. The fear that for the first time in my life I would be considered “normal” in my weight range when all I’ve known are the labels “overweight,” “obese” and “morbidly obese”.

Tell me all you want about muscle weight vs fat weight and how I’m probably just building muscle mass (cause in case you haven’t seen my guns or my legs there are some serious muscles coming through). Tell me all you want about having to take my loose skin into consideration as added weight. Tell me what you want about plateauing and how it’s inevitable that weight gain slows downs considerably as you get closer to ideal weight. I know all of this. It’s been my life for the 10 months. What I also know is I am scared. Scared to look down at the scale and see the number I’ve worked so hard to get to.

Would it surprise you to know that for the last few weeks I’ve actually contemplated gaining my weight back? Maybe not to the extent of weighing 270 or more but gaining enough back so that I could say things like:

“See I am a failure”

or

“I will never be good enough in the eye’s of my dead mother”

or

“I will never succeed”

or

???

I don’t know what it is about this last 5 pounds. It’s like I’m running a marathon and I stop right before the finish line. I’m afraid to cross over. I want to turn around and run back to the beginning and start again because what does one do after you cross over? In the world of running, you pick another race. In the world of lifting heavy sh*t, you lift you lift heavier sh*t. In the world weight loss…at some point you have to stop.

And then what?

Live a normal life? Live exposed instead of hidden behind a layer of fat? Shop in the smaller sizes instead of finding comfort in XXL? Cry while eating an apple instead of drowning my sorrows in fried chicken and mash potatoes? Stay in the moment instead of continually berating myself for past failures (that probably dare I say weren’t really failures). Allow myself to be happy? Allow myself to believe that for once in my life, I can instead of I can’t? Actually go out there and live?…

Yhea, I’m not ready for that yet.

I know I know, sounds crazy. But truth be told I’m not ready. As long as I can keep the label of “overweight” even “marginally overweight” then there is comfort in my lack of being able to succeed. Roll your eye’s all you want and tell me “I can’t wait to get where you are” or “Tara how can you say such things. I mean hello you’re so damn close”. I’m not afraid to speak the truth. The truth today is I am scared. It doesn’t mean I’m giving up. Quite the contrary. I’m moving more today than ever before. I’m running farther, lifting more, sweating more profusely than one can imagine. I’m doing everything in my power to reach that goal of 170…

Except mentally preparing.

I’m not sure the point of this post today. Some days I have clear and concise messages to share. Some days it’s just about putting out there what needs to said. Thinking “I’m scared” and saying it out loud for the world (at least the blogging world) are two totally different things. I am standing before the finish line…


I am afraid to cross over.