This Isn’t Me

You woke up fat.

That’s what happened to me anyway: I woke up one day, wiped the sleepy out of my eyes and gazed in the mirror.

I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

This isn’t me.

The “me” in my mind’s eye was fit and spirited, healthy and vital.

The “me” staring back at me was pasty, weak and lifeless, sporting a layered look even though he had yet to get dressed.

This isn’t me.

Somehow, we convince ourselves that we’re doing okay, even when presented with an abundance of evidence to the contrary.

We understand that our actions have consequences, but the truth of those words slip tantalizingly through our fingertips.

We know what we need to do, and yet we falter and fail and can’t for the life of us begin to understand the reasons why.

And then one day, it dawns on us…

This isn’t me.

I’m not a person that knows better but can’t do better.

I’m not a person that’s too frightened, worried or weak to make a positive change in my life.

I’m not a person that just doesn’t give a damn.

This isn’t me.

I can do this.

I can grab the reins of my life and take control of what I eat and how I live.

I can push myself harder and further than I ever thought possible.

I can scale a mountain by taking one uphill step at a time.

The other day, someone needed a photo of me for something or other and asked if they could use the one they had on file. I asked for them to email it to me…

No, I replied.

That isn’t me.


This is me.



Note: Hadn't had enough sh*t today?
Head over to Did I Just Eat That Out Loud
for my birthday guest post for Mrs. Fatass.