The Biggest Loser

I usually write when I'm down, when I'm weak, when I'm fighting to get back. None of that today. As I wrote (I think) the other day, I'm starting the year at a lower weight than I did last year (by 10+ pounds). I didn't start the year looking for the magic elixir, although I will admit that for every Marie Osmond or Oprah commercial, the thought would briefly cost my mind about trying they knew programs and then I would remember that I have my own that's quite successful, thanks.

I watched the season premiere of The Biggest Loser last night and another first. While I could empathize for sure with the contestants, it was the first time that I watched and realized that I didn't belong on that show. In years past, I would watch and think about what it would be like for me to be on the ranch, in the gym, not being able to run on the treadmill, not being able to keep up with the workouts, needing to lose 25, 50, 75 or more pounds.

[Aside: from the BMI scale, I'm probably still considered obese. Fuck the BMI scale. I will always be a curvy girl. I will never be a size 2. I will never weight 125 pounds.]

And so, knowing that realistically, I would like to lose another 10 pounds, I watched the show last night to remind myself that I don't want to get back to *that* point, that I'm in a (mentally) healthy place. At least for this week. It will always be a struggle. There are too many years of the other kind of thinking, too many years of looking for the magic diet that will work, when all along I should have been looking for something that's not a diet, but a way of life.