Who am I doing this for?

One of the best parts about becoming a blog-a-holic has been the discovery of so many other fabulous weight loss blogs....some of whom I've linked to on the left over there....

It's been so wonderful to read how others are making their way through the universe of weight loss. It's nice to know I'm not the only one fighting this battle. It's encouraging to read that just as I struggle, others struggle. It's inspiring to share in my fellow bloggers' successes.

Being overweight isn't something you can always talk about with your girlfriends. Especially when for so long, you've been the only chubby one in your circle. I can't tell you how many times in my life I've gone shopping with a girlfriend where she leaves with tons of bags from stores I have no business setting foot in while I leave the mall with a new pair of socks...or shoes.

But the blog world has shown me I am far from alone and there was no moment that hit more than this week when I read this from the fabulous Minx.

As she recounted the story of the cad who placed more value on her weight and her looks instead of on her stellar personality (and how she allowed him to do so!), I alternated between wanting to reach through my computer and smack some sense in to her and wanting to reach through my computer and give her a hug.

Why? Because haven't we all been there? Haven't most of us chubby girls allowed a man or his comments about our weight to dictate how we feel about ourselves, what we eat or how we act?

Minx's story hit me so hard because for me, that moment came when I met The Baseball Player. We never really had a relationship. Not a proper kind. We went on a few (err, okay, two) dates but for the most part, our interaction was limited to late-night sneaking around and me going to his place.

At first, I was so smitten by the fact that this adorable athlete was paying any kind of attention to ME that I played by his rules. More than once, a planned outing to meet his friends fell through. More than once, he cancelled weekend plans with me at the last minute. More than once, I went running when he called at 11 p.m.

I'm not exactly sure how long it took me to snap out of my funk and realize I deserved better but the moment came when it hit me that I was lowering myself and my morals for a guy who was embarrassed to be seen with me.

Not because I wasn't smart. He often told me I was. Not because I wasn't funny. I made him laugh. A lot. Not because I could discuss his beloved baseball with him more than any woman he'd ever met. He said so. Often.

No, he was embarrassed because while I had a chest he adored, it came with a large tummy and thunder thighs. One night while we were kissing, he ran his hand across my stomach and said he could help me come up with a workout plan to get rid of it. Seeing as how I've always been trying to lose weight, I agreed...and asked if he wouldn't mind coming to the gym and showing me. He was non-committal and never brought it up again.

After that, I began pushing myself in the gym. I tried to eat less. A few pounds came off, but I learned then one of the most valuable weight loss lessons a person can grasp--that until you are losing weight for yourself and for your health, it's just not going to happen.

Eventually, my brain caught up to my heart and I cut ties with The Baseball Player. Shortly thereafter, I met Mr. CCC, but while he pushed me to let him in my life, I resisted. He kept asking for dates, I kept putting them off. Why? Because Mr. CCC wasn't overweight...I kept telling myself he'd want nothing to do with me because of how I looked.

Eventually though, his persistance, his insistence that my weight didn't matter got through to me. We did go on that date and before long, I found myself working to lose weight again...and again, for him. Because I was afraid to lose him.

I lost weight and regained it and Mr. CCC didn't run. When he proposed, I was at my highest weight in a long time...I joined Weight Watchers and lost 60 pounds in preparation for our wedding. But because I still hadn't lost the weight for myself, that weight came back. Mr. CCC still hasn't gone anywhere.

This journey I'm on now is the first time I've set out to lose weight for myself. For my health. There's no wedding gown to get into. There's no man to attract. Yes, one of my goals is to get my body in the best possible state to make a baby, but more than ever, this time, I realized and accepted my weight was a ticking time bomb. I don't have heart disease or diabetes or high blood pressure because I'm in my 20s.

If I'm at this weight in my 30s, I know the outlook won't be so rosy.

Before, when I cheated on my diet, it was always the voice of someone else I'd hear in my head. The Baseball Player. My mother. My doctor. Now, when I reach for a cookie when I don't have any points left or when I try to dodge a workout, the voice I hear trying to nudge me back on track is my own.

It's not a man's. It's not another woman's. It's my voice and this time, I'm listening. Because this time--for the first time--I'm doing this for me.

(And for accountabilities sake--if you've been reading my exploits for a while, you know Saturday is weigh-in day. Just thought I'd let you know I'm down another one...that's 26 pounds since I started, 12 on Weight Watchers. Woo hoo! I'm finally starting to get back into Those Numbers I Have Not Seen In a Long, Long Time)