2017 · single mom

ten pounds

As a solid non-resolutioner, it won’t surprise you to learn that working out more wasn’t my goal for 2017. In fact, I’ve been working out less than usual – I blame the busyness of work and life, and the fact that snuggling with RomCom and F is far more fun than bicep curls and deadlifts – and aside from wearing out a little faster than usual when I do get my sweat on, I’m not really feeling any negative effects.

 

The invitations and requests to join accountability groups and weight loss challenges are never ending but in the past few weeks, they’ve risen considerably – no doubt thanks to the New Year, New You everyone’s currently obsessing over.

And then come the promises.

Be bikini-ready this summer! 

Get skinny fast!

Lose 10 pounds by Valentine’s Day!

Ten pounds. It doesn’t seem like much. It’s the weight I’m constantly told I can lose if I just do X, Y, Z. It’s the exact number I’m invited to try to lose if I just sign up for this program.

I was particularly incensed by a message from a brand (I won’t call names) who first complimented me on my IG photos and how great I look, and then offered me a free month of their particular program… and then told me I’ll be able to lose 10 pounds in just one month.

Let me tell you a little something about ten pounds, random person who doesn’t know me but thinks I need to lose weight because I am a female on social media.

Ten pounds is almost ten percent of my body weight (8.6206% to be exact).

Ten pounds is the amount that I’ve (often) arbitrarily thrown into the universe as the amount I want or need to lose.

Ten pounds has been the monster that kept me awake at night, ate away at my confidence, and ruined my relationship with food.

Ten pounds is the difference between my healthy body weight and an unhealthy body weight. The difference between my being able to properly care for my son, do my job, and support the lifestyle I want to lead. I know this because I’ve lost that ten pounds and with it, the zest that makes me me.

Ten pounds is the weight of the dumbbell I use for my triceps extensions, kickbacks, and bicep curls. Fifty is the weight I squat. One hundred fifteen is my current body weight. I have fifteen ten pounds; I’m not giving one ten pounds up.

Ten pounds is not the secret to happiness.

Ten pounds is not a reason to love, or not to love, your body.

Ten pounds is not worth your happiness.

6 thoughts on “ten pounds

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