I’m not talking about those blogs that are currently poisoning the internet with their view of self-loathing, body-hating, disgusting view of the world as a whole. No. I’m talking about inspiration to be healthy. To be whole. To be something other than a lazy, goal-less, rudderless person.
Inspiration is so much better than thinspiration.
Last year, for New Year’s 2009, I was a twig. I had worked out for 2 hours that day in order to ‘deserve’ the food and chocolate I would be having that night. I ended up being so hungry that night I binged. When I woke up the next morning, the dull ache in my stomach meant I needed to slam down a large container of coffee and do it immediately so I could purge the lump of chocolate in my system. I remember spending a large amount of that day dizzy, not even really celebrating my sister’s announcement of her pregnancy because when I stood up to hug her, the room went black. My hair is thin. My eyes are tired and sunken. My face is pale.
You can’t tell but I was eating my way through that plate. I was so hungry the room was whirring by at a breakneck pace. I was 130 pounds.
That was then.
This is now.
Last night was one of the happiest, most relaxed nights of my life. I ate, I drank, and I was merry. And yes, chocolate was consumed, but not several plates of it because I was desperate to overcome a caloric deficit. I enjoyed every last bite. I did work out yesterday but only for 50 minutes, and tomorrow I plan to take a much deserved day of total rest so my body can recover. If I do anything tomorrow it’ll be a Power Flow class at the yoga studio, but I’m thinking my body needs a day off. It deserves one.
This is a weight that allows me to drink champagne and dance with my mother at 1 in the morning to Ace of Base in sequined high heels.
A weight that allows me to perform numerous chatarungas, as well as down a slice of chocolate cake.
A weight that lets me run around with my nephew, laze away a day, make some pancakes, read a book and retain the information, and blog to you lovely people.
A weight that gives me hope and lets me dream.
A weight that craves clean, wholesome, healthy foods, but also knows it can tolerate my mother’s greasy eggplant parmesan, peppermint ice cream, the bread basket at restaurants, and steaming cups of rich hot chocolate.
A weight that goes without a number, because I have no idea what I weigh right now. Thank God.
Because last night was not about weight. It was about the new year. A year full of possibilities. A year in which I might start getting certification to be a personal trainer.
Who knows what’ll happen this year?
That being said, I know I celebrated hard, and right now due to the holiday season I am feeling a bit heavy and smushy. Not fat. I don’t think I’ve gained weight. But I’ve definitely got a bit of the holiday bloat going on (damn all that salt!) . Give me a few days of workouts and my normal eating schedule and I’ll be back on track.
But this holiday was the first I embarked on with a sense of balance. And I could not be happier about it.