Yesterday at work, I saw a fellow co-worker, who like myself struggles with her weight, smoking on her break. Yes, damn it, smoking! I really wanted to go over, grab that thing out of her hand, slap her, and then hug her. In the five years I've worked there, I've never seen her smoke before.
Sure, maybe she's a smoker and I just never knew it. Maybe she is stressed out about something that I don't know anything about, but more so, I think it comes down to her weight issues. It's her quick fix. It will keep her from eating during her break. It will make food taste like crap. It will speed up her metabolism. I know what's she's thinking because I've had those same thoughts myself.
Also on my mind around then was the last few conversations I'd had with C. She's still hungry and still frustrated, though she has lost a few more pounds. But, at what cost I tried to reason with her. You can't live like that. And, who would want to any way?
For my own part, life is still good. True, I'm not a size 8 but I'm down to a solid 12 now. I actually wore a pair of pants the other day that I hadn't worn in months, and they are very comfortable, not falling off my boney butt, but not so tight I can't sit comfortably either. And, I'm turning 43 tomorrow, so while I'm not eating like a crazy person (I actually went out yesterday for lunch and ordered a sandwich minus the bread), I'm not driving myself nuts by stepping on the scale or starving myself either. In fact, we're going out to eat for my birthday slash graduation celebration and I'm going to eat whatever I want. So there.