I haven't forgotten about this guideline. I did a bunch of web research about authenticity this winter. It was a surprisingly hot topic. Apparently there are people out there who are trying to pass themselves off as authentic this or that when they are anything but.
Who'da thunk it?
But I can't worry myself with that stuff. The authenticity I'm concerned with this year as I keep this watchword in mind is all my own.
Learning to listen to the inner guide that lives in my heart hasn't been easy. Actually, the listening is easy as hell. It's the follow through that needs work. For example:
I hate the gym. I hate it with every fiber of my being and I make no attempt to hide it. I hate the treadmill. I hate the stationary bike. I hate, hate, hate the elliptical. They are so boring and pointless. They make me want to put my own eyes out with a spork. The thought of standing there in the constant pursuit of lifting ever heavier weights makes me want to run screaming into the night.
Well, maybe not actually run. Running hurts my ankles. I don't run. I can, however, waddle rather quickly when necessary.
So tell me why in the hell do I keep trying to go to the gym to get exercise? Because someone said that's how to do it.
I go. I do whatever ridiculous activity of my choosing feeling a fool the entire time. I feel a sense of hollow accomplishment. Then I go and do the same thing again. And again. And again. It's revolting and mind-numbing and I can't stand it.
And it's So. Not. Me. I tried so hard to like it. I tried so hard to feel a sense of accomplishment when I went from 20 to 30 minutes on the bike. Or that time I decided to do some intervals of light jogging during my dreadmill session. Did I mention I don't run? Yeah. That didn't pan out so well.
Therefore, as of right now, I've sworn off the gym. I've promised myself to never have to go again if I don't want to. I'm listening to my inner guide and she's saying, "Let. It. Go." I've done this before, I know. But this time, I mean it. I'm done.
Truth be told I don't have it in me to be that focused on my appearance anymore. Sure, I used to. But the thing I really want is good health. I know that some of that will come with weight loss. Frankly, I can't worry about that now. I'm more worried about what is going into my body than what is coming off. The quality and quantity of my meals. The fresh air. The fitness that comes from living a clean life and an doing honest day's work.
And, I learned something new.
The scale is a bitch. It lies. You think that weight you lost is fat, but it's probably not. It's more likely to be water and it will be back tomorrow or the next day. Sometimes if the scale isn't changing, your body is but that bitch won't tell you. In the end, the number your scale shows you when you step on board is only a representation of the effect of gravity on the physical mass of your body. Nothing more, nothing less. It is not your self worth. It is not a reflection of who you are as a person. It is not a definition of your attractiveness to the opposite (or not) sex. It is not the thing that lets you sleep well at night...more often, it's the reverse. And, if you do somehow manage to lose weight and get to the place you wanted to be, you won't stay there without constant vigilence.
I don't know if I have that kind of persistence in me.
No. No more. My life and my time are more valuable than that. I can't spend the time in relentless pursuit of something so pointless and fleeting. I've sorta drifted off center a bit. I'm righting my course now. Heading back to alignment with who I am...my authentic self. This doesn't mean I'm giving up. I will get smaller and healthier, but I have to do it my own way. I will find other metrics besides weight loss to measure my progress. Say, climbing the stairs at work without wheezing or finally being able to wear those slacks again. That would be a good start.
Because, really, if I actually get somewhere by trying to be someone or something I'm not, how long can I possibly hope to stay there?
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