I understand that Grinch, I really do

Now that this semester is over and I have some time to devote to having Christmas fun, I sat down today with the kids to watch some Christmas classics.  At the top of the list was, of course, Dr. Seuss' How the Grinch Stole Christmas.

(I SWEAR this really does relate to my weight loss journey.  Bear with me.)

So we get to the part where the Grinch has all the Who stuff on the sled, and it's teetering at the top of the precipice (Mount Crumpet, if you can't remember).  Grinch cups his ear gleefully to listen out for Whoville's wailing and moaning, and he hears joyful singing instead.  Consternation, disbelief, struggling to understand.  I doubt Dr. Seuss ever intended it, but to me, the Grinch's expression says very clearly, WTH?

Then Grinch starts to figure it out, slowly; the unthinkable becomes believable, and he gets that look on his face that's supposed to be saintly but, let's face it, is still kinda creepy.  (He was born that way, he can't help it; don't judge.)  Then he looks up and realizes the sled is falling, and that his malice is about to have terrible consequences.  Leaping forward, he struggles to reverse his mistake, but ordinary strength isn't enough.

And what happened then? Well, in Whoville they say
That the Grinch's small heart grew three sizes that day!

And then the true meaning of Christmas came through,
And the Grinch found the strength of ten Grinches, plus two!

So, you say, any day now, let's get to the part where this connects to weight loss, because we really don't see how this is gonna work.

You got it.  Here we go.

Many years ago, someone I cared about very much told me some pretty insidious things, things that took root where they never had the right.  Things that blotted out common sense, things that stained truth so that I distrusted my own judgement.  In a nutshell, I believed that to be beautiful, I had to be perfect.  There were two states of physical appearance:  Perfect and ugly.  Totally graceful and...not.  Put together well, and unattractive mess.  There was no gray, only black and white.  And because I cared so much for this person, I fell for it, hook, line, and sinker.  I tried to be what this person demanded but the stubborn in me rebelled.  I began to equate improving myself with that person winning, and while there was breath left in my body, I would NOT give in.  So year after year I let myself go, believing that by now I was so far from perfect that there was no longer any point in trying.  Perfection was as far away as the moon.  I was headed towards an inevitable fate, and because I cared so little for myself, it didn't really upset me.

Fast-forward about fifteen years.  By now I had a family who, for reasons unfathomable to me, thought I walked on water.  I was very grateful but I could not understand just why they thought I was so amazing.  I wasn't perfect, I wasn't beautiful, I wasn't anything I ought to be, so....????  It made no sense, but if they wanted to feel that way, well, I wasn't going to stop them, the sweet fools.  I'd let them have their delusion.  But I wasn't exactly the same person I used to be, either; obviously I wasn't perfect but I had figured a few things out, and the single most important to date was that I had to get the insidious thoughts out of my head.  Time to clean house.  Time to get busy.  I went back to school, believing that I had something to offer and I needed the additional education.  I succeeded in class after class, not just doing okay but getting A's right and left.  After a few years of classes, I had a solid 4.0 average.  Well, I thought, the brains are still there, I didn't expect that.  I was pleasantly surprised at how I'd been able to handle a whole heck of a lot of difficult challenges, and it spurred me on.  What next, I thought, what else is hanging around this old brain that could use some sprucing up?  What are some other changes I can make to help myself?  Because apparently, I am worth something to me.  And that thought smacked me upside the head.  I felt poleaxed, right between the eyes.

I am worth something, to me.  Not because of anyone else, not FOR anyone else, but just to me.

Well, hell, I thought, if that's the case...let's talk about this bod for a minute.  What's up with THAT?  I've got two major diseases and, if I'm being honest with myself, am I reasonably certain I'll make it to Sam's high school graduation in nine years?  Well....honestly?  No, not so sure.

I began working on my health, turning to professionals who gave me the guidance I needed to make a success of this once and for all.  And because this was first and foremost for me, I dove in with joy, fierceness, and determination.  Almost 8 months later, the fire is still lit inside and it's getting only brighter and hotter.  I am on the right track, finally.

OK, you say.  GRINCH.  Get to the GRINCH.

You're so impatient.  *sigh*

We all know the mental is at least, if not more, difficult than the physical, right?  So during this whole time, as the physical changes became more obvious to the people around me, I heard certain things more often:  "You look great!  You look wonderful!  You look amazing!"  And you'd think by now that I would know how to handle it, right?  I'd be appropriately flattered but humble, accepting the praise modestly and smoothly, thanking everyone sincerely for their kind words, and take it all in stride.  No highs, no lows.  Maintain an even strain.

*snort*  Don't you people know me at all?  Have you not been paying attention?  Every single time someone gave me a compliment, my brain instantly tallied all outstanding physical deficits and compared them to the compliment credit.  "Whoops, nope, no match, tell the Boss it's a lie."  And I'd smile benevolently at the person complimenting me, not taking in a single drop of their kindness, and with a smart-aleck comment I'd blow it off.  Trainers being trainers (read: well-versed in spotting stupidity), mine wasted no time in telling me exactly what I was doing wrong.  Then they told me I was their new Special Project.  *oh crap, help*  They made me realize that learning how to own success was the first step towards keeping it, and that I MUST learn this lesson.  It was right up there with progressing with the exercises, in terms of importance.  So for a while now I've been paying close attention to the matter and trying to deal with it.

I know, I know.  If I don't start talking about the Grinch soon, you're going to leave me and go check Facebook.

Work on something long enough and you're bound to have progress.  I realized just recently that between perfection - if there really is such a thing, of which I am not convinced now - and mess, there is a lot of in-between.  I was told recently by a whole gaggle of people that I looked great, amazing, and fantastic.  I started to do that whole tallying thing again, but this time I stopped myself.  Clearly I was not perfect, but this many people can't all be liars, idiots, or blind.  So what gives?  And that's when I had my Mount Crumpet revelation:  I don't have to be perfect to be beautiful.  I don't have to be a Victoria's Secret model to be sexy, even at 46.  I can be graceful and attractive even now.  Which means I've accomplished my goal of looking beautiful; now I can focus full-time on becoming more healthy, without the superficial distractions.  Beautiful isn't some far-off iffy target; it's here.  Every bit of work I do from here on out is only going to improve it, but it's no longer my primary goal.  When my husband looks at me with such love and tells me I am beautiful...now I believe him.

And what happened then? Well, in Whoville they say
That the Grinch's small heart grew three sizes that day!

And then the true meaning of Christmas came through,
And the Grinch found the strength of ten Grinches, plus two!

And now that his heart didn't feel quite so tight,
He whizzed with his load through the bright morning light

*Boom* dey it is. And you didn't think I could do it.