Can I admit this?  Should I admit this?  Even to myself, should I admit this?  Let alone, admitting it out loud on my blog?

I'm both reluctant and scared to go weigh myself.  I don't mean just reluctant or scared today. I mean I dread every single Tuesday morning now.  I'm tired of losing and gaining the same stupid 3.5 - 5 pounds.  Up to 226 - down to 221.4, up to 222.8, up to 225.4 ... down to 221.8, and on and on it goes.

I ate very very poorly yesterday AND Sunday.  It doesn't seem to matter that I go regularly to the gym now, and exercise hard while I'm there.   It doesn't seem to matter when I eat GREAT for a week, or when I eat sort of great for part of the week, then off, then on ... then back to okay.  It also doesn't matter if I eat just okay ... or really awful.  I'm still up and down the 5lb yoyo tree every single week.  I'm getting very frustrated with the whole thing.


Then I start to ruminate, and even , to myself.  I'm wondering what's so bad about being 4'11" and weighing 22_._ - forever.  I'm still the same woman inside, I argue with myself.  Why should it matter whether I way 125, 156, 185 or 22_ or whatever. It doesn't change my personality, it doesn't change my character.  It doesn't change my faith, or my faithfulness (or lack there of, as the day might be.) I mean, all that changes is my pants size, my shirt size .... my mirror's size - right?  I'm learning this thought process may well be wrong.  I don't want it to be wrong.  I need the excuse of it being RIGHT.  I want it to be right so bad, I think I've convinced myself of it over the years, and especially over the weeks of this challenge.

You know though, it's a lie I tell myself.  Yes, I'm not going to be nicer, or meanier, or bitterer, or more faithful, faithless, spiritual, empty - whatever, if my scale reads up or down.  But .... but.  My heart is definitely down when that scale is so so so high .  There in, lies my downfall.  Pride.

Pride.  I so hate that word.  It convicts me every time I see it.  I hasten to leap in and say, "Pride!  Not me!  I don't have pride issues.  I mean, don't you have to BE proud, to have Pride issues?  You know, rich, snobbish, skinny, the ultimate in Home Schooling gurus, wise (and know it!), super organised, beautiful "Better Homes and Gardens" homes, intelligent, intellectual .... you know, be someone who has a reason to be proud, to have pride as an issue. The reality is - I need none of those things to be proud.  Actually, you can have ALL of those things, and still not be proud.  You might be misguided, lonely (for some of them), but not necessarily proud.  Pride, to me, is when you know the truth of something, don't like it, and turn your eyes blind to your own fault(s), and foolishly belief, you do not have a problem with that, do not need help, accept no help.  Why?  You don't want to give up the control to the Father in that area.  You don't want to need help. You want to be able to do it in *your* strength. Well, that's me. 

I should journal.  I don't.  Why?  Because then I would no longer be able to stand here in prideful 'innocence' shouting ---- I don't understand.  I'm exercising.  I hardly eat. WHY AM I NOT LOSING WEIGHT?  I'M DOING IT ALL RIGHT!. Can we all see the screaming pride?  Then the biggest lies I have in my arsenal, as a Christian, come to my rescue.  'God loves me as a fat woman.'  'God allowed me to become and stay a fat woman.'  'It must not be my time to lose weight, or the Lord would be blessing my efforts.'  So many other lies come tripping to my rescue every day. 

Pride.

Now, if I can admit this fault and failing, what do I do with it now?  How do you just 'let it go, and let God?'  I thought I was doing that - I haven't been.  So how do you literally put this thing - eating - at the throne of Jesus, lock stock and  barrel, and walk away?  I need food to survive. It's not like an alcoholic, or a drug addict, or gambler ... who can actually walk away from their vise.  Not have it in the house, in every store and mall, and gas station they go to.   It's inescapable.  If you love food, how do you come to a place of loving just the right amount of food - and nothing more?  How do you give up those things that taste so yummy?  How do *I* let go? 

I don't want to spend my life as a 220 something pound woman.  I remember feeling so discontent when I weighted 101lbs (nearly 25 years ago!).  I remember feeling discontent at 123, and a 130 ... and a 145.  Oh how I wish I could feel THAT kind of discontent now.  Now, I feel nothing but loathing, for this blob I have become. 

Love others, as you love yourself ... oh boy, do I have a problem then.  I certainly can't even pretend to love myself - I don't.  How, then, can I love others?  How can I love Jesus?  The Father?  The Holy Spirit?   I can't.

There's the truth.  I can't. 

Maybe, the only thing that can come out of this is an ending.  Not an ending to being morbidly obese, No. An ending to this crippling pride.

I need help.  I need a food mentor.  An exercise mentor.  I spiritual guide through this minefield of food, scales, journals - everything.  I think I seriously need someone to hold my hand, even my fridge ... and hold me up, because I fall down so often, I'm too weak to hold myself up.  You say ...well, go to the Father.  Yes.  I know.  That is the place I should go.  I do talk to my Father about it, but I also remember Moses.  The Father knew Moses felt too weak to do everything asked of him.  He knew Moses could do it, but Moses didn't believe he was up for it.  God gave him Aaron.  Aaron encouraged Moses.  Aaron was strength to Moses, when Moses was too weak to go on.  Aaron even held Mose's arm aloft, when he was growing weary of the task at the Red Sea.   There are other examples of the Father giving aid to His chosen envoy throughout the Bible.

Pride goes before the fall, they say.  Well, I don't know about that. I am an intelligent woman, and I haven't the first idea how to truly even start. I think, in this area, in particular (there are others, but those are other posts), I have fallen.  I can't get up.  I'm too weak.  I'm too fat.  I'm too beat. I need an Aaron.

If  this journey has shown me anything, it's shown me: my failure, my empty heart, my pride.  I'm not seeking pats on the back, commiseration, pity party participants ... I'm just letting go of my pride, and showing my heart.

It's not a pretty sight.  I wonder what the Father wants me to do with this mess?

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