Spreading myself too thin...

Yesterday at lunch I caved. I ate a brownie that I had every intention of not eating. The realization that I was out of control hit me full force.

Four and a half hours later I was at Weight Watchers. Again. A lifetime member since 1980, I can at least give myself credit for having learned to recognize when it's time to return. And yesterday it was clearly time.

And so begins my journey to lose 41 pounds. Stepping on that scale is always painful, but I'm well aware that it could have been worse, and right now I'll take any positive I can find. I sensed a difference in myself as I sat in the meeting last night. This is the first time I've really been curious to know what it will feel like to be at goal weight again and curiousity is a powerful, powerful motivator for me.

As an artist my mantra is "what if?" and I sense that this time around what captured my curiosity is wondering about my weight loss from a sculptor's point of view. I stood in front of the mirror this morning lifting this and tightening that while considering, "What if this were up here? What if that were smaller? What if the skin decides to drape and sag rather than hug the bones?" Strangely pleasant questions knowing that, if I apply myself to the task at hand, I might uncover the what of what's there. Like, perhaps, the body that lies beneath the protective coating I've built up over the years. Years of denial. Years of taking care of everyone but me. Years of busy-ness with things that don't matter so I don't have to deal with the things that do.

And what if it turns out that spreading myself too thin for so many years is a key factor in why I'm now anything but?