You've seen the commercials—an inspiring young woman holds up a giant pair of jeans that used to fit her, only to reveal her stunning new figure beneath. She's thin, and she looks amazing, and you can be just like her. I'm not arguing the logic of these proclamations, but just like everything on television, it's never as easy as they make it seem.
I've been paying closer attention than I used to to all of the weight loss commercials saturating the airwaves. Apparently, watching what you eat and going to the gym is so last century. Now all you have to do is take a pill, and you'll be just as sexy as those anorexic girls in the commercials. To which I have only one reply: if a pill could truly make me thin, it wouldn't have taken me so long to get here.
When I first started Weight Watchers, I found it very inspiring to go through and read the success stories of other members. It was incredible to see how many people's lives had completely changed because of the weight they'd lost. You may be inclined to write that off as vanity, but there's so much more to it than that. When you're overweight, it's not just your jeans size that suffers.
This article from WebMD goes into detail explaining the health risks associated with obesity. It shouldn't be that surprising that your chances of getting heart disease, high blood pressure, diabetes, or certain types of cancer can be greatly reduced if you're a healthy weight. Sure, when you're young, in your twenties or thirties, those extra pounds might not seem like such a big deal. But what would your sixty-year-old self have to say about it? If you can save your joints, your heart, your health, your life savings from being swallowed up by medical bills, why wouldn't you?
I understand what I must sound like, and why now's a good place to stop reading. I'm just like every other person who loses some weight and somehow thinks she knows everything. But that's not the case at all. If I did know everything, I wouldn't be spending my time writing a blog post that, more than likely, no one will read. I have nothing to benefit from other than hoping that my tiny grains of wisdom can somehow help someone. And I can guarantee that my sixty-year-old self would be okay with that.
I didn't lose weight because I wanted people to tell me how great I look—I lost weight because I was seriously fearful that my health would deteriorate at a young age, and my quality of life would suffer. I'll readily admit that cancer is one of my biggest fears, and finding out that it's in my family was a gigantic wake-up call. I realize that just because I'm thin now doesn't mean that cancer won't come calling, but at least I'm not giving it an invitation with an RSVP.
Getting thin is one thing. Staying thin is another. You can't lose weight and expect your metabolism to work differently. I eat about half of what I used to, but if I started eating those same portions again, I'd gain weight. That's why I had to change the way I look at food, better understand my motivations for consuming, and control my portions. Not just today, but every day for the rest of my life.
Like it or not, your weight is linked to how much you eat and how much activity you have. It's biology, and a stern talking to isn't going to make it change. Just because I look like I do right now doesn't mean I'll always look this way. I don't just want to be healthy—I want to stay healthy. Which is why I didn't set out to diet, I set out to make a permanent change.
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