Moving forward...and gaining puppy perspective

In case you couldn't tell by my last post, it's been a rough go lately.

My head hasn't been in it.

My heart hasn't been in it.

I'll be honest--if I hadn't purchased a 10-week membership at WW, last week would have probably been the time I quit. That means I would've gained back all the weight I lost (and possibly more), and the cycle would have begun all over again.

But I haven't quit. It's been hard, it's been trying, but thanks to some inspiration, I've been able to fake motivation for the past few days ;) I got some good advice that I took to heart...and while my schedule means I basically read a page a day before I fall asleep from sheer exhaustion, I purchased the Dr. Phil book a few of you mentioned.

And it's right on...if I'm going to change my body, my habits, my health--I'm going to have to change my mind. Permanently.

So yesterday, not having any idea what to expect, I went to my WW meeting and faced the scale. After blowing through my flex points over the weekend and scrambling for any points I could scrounge up during the week, I knew I'd had more food than I should have. I also knew I hadn't worked out the way I wanted.

I tried to prepare myself for the inevitable gain (which would have been three weeks in a row, GULP!) but it didn't come. Instead, I lost the weight I'd gained over the past two weeks and hit my lowest point on this journey so far. Whew!

And when I sat down for the meeting, I tried to open my mind to what was being said. The topic of the week? Quitting. Or better yet--not quitting, even when it gets hard.

Ha! Divine intervention anyone? Perfect timing for me. Perfect timing.

Got lots of good advice, but the one thing that stuck out at me involved again--changing my mindset. When I confessed I'd considered quitting, my leader asked, "Quitting what? You're not on a diet. You're following a healthy eating plan. You're changing your life for the better. What is there to quit?"

Touche, master WW leader. You're right.

For the past few weeks, I've let myself be my worst enemy. I've let self-doubt take over. I've let frustration seep in. And slowly, I'm pulling myself out of that rut. No more blowing it on weekends. A little more planning and sacrificing of my time....since my beloved evening workouts aren't a possibility anymore, it's time to get up early and get it done in the morning.

It's up to me to change my mind and how I look at this journey I'm on. I'm changing it right now.

I got another dose of perspective late this week that reminded me yesterday how far I've come.

About a month ago, my parents adopted an adorable little puppy from the Humane Society. After much thought, much discussion and much whining (from me, I admit it), my parents realized their house just didn't feel like home without a dog. Since losing Dobie, we lost the happiness of having a four-legged friend run to meet you at the door. We lost the sweetness of a gentle nudge and a puppy kiss. We missed those things so much we decided to bring a new dog into our lives.

Oso is a German Shepherd mix who looks like a little teddy bear. But in the month we've had him, he's grown quickly. Not much of a little dog anymore. The other day, I volunteered to take him for a walk. I figured since I hadn't worked out, a nice stroll around the neighborhood would give me some activity points for the day. I set out with Oso, a bottle of water and a plan to walk for at least 40 minutes.

Call me naive.

Oso, who hasn't really had a walk that long yet in his little life, looked at me after about 20 minutes and sat in a shady spot. No amount of coaxing, water or treat would get him to continue. And I was 20 minutes from home.

I had two options--I could call home and have someone come pick us up or I could pick Oso up and carry him home.

I went with option two.

It was exhausting and I had to stop several times, put him down and take a breather. When we'd brought Oso home from the shelter, he weighed six pounds. As I trudged home with his furry little body pressed against mine, I knew that number was long gone.

Sure enough, I got home, put him on the scale and took a look..."little" Oso weighed 15 pounts. As I wiped my sweaty forehead it hit me...

I've lost two Osos.

When I carried him home for those last 20 minutes, I was miserable. He was heavy. With every step in the hot Florida sun, I swore internally that dog weighed a ton. And a year ago---I carried twice his weight on my body.

Talk about perspective. Yes, it's taken me longer than I would have liked to lose the weight, but it's happened nonetheless.

The whole episode--along with the inspiration I've found this week--have kept me going.

As for "little" Oso, the vets tell us he could get to be anywhere between 70 and 80 pounds. For every pound I lose, he's gaining.

I can't wait to get to the point where I can say I've lost a full-grown Oso...dare to dream, dare to dream. And despite the increasing body weight, I've got to say, I still love that I can pick him up and cuddle our little boy. Before long, he'll be much too big to carry home.