It’s my Birthday today and this year I have myself the best gift ever – 65 pounds of fat loss!  Well there I am, in all my 47 years of glory!  Hey I made it!  I’m sure there are people out there betting that I wouldn’t 🙂

I am grateful for so many things this year.  This is the first year since I was in my 30’s that I didn’t suffer a devastating loss.  This is the year when I said ENOUGH and got off my butt and did something about my weight problem.

It hasn’t been easy though.  My last post about how I am struggling right now really hit a nerve with people.  I get a lot more messages through Facebook or Insta than I get comments on my blog – maybe because that is what people are used to doing, or maybe because they don’t want there comment to be seen by everyone.

The running theme of my messages seemed to be:  Forgive yourself and move on.

It really started this weird brain of mine thinking.

Forgive myself?  Why the hell should I forgive myself?

I mean I’m not saying that forgiving yourself is a bad thing.  I’m saying there’s nothing to forgive.

So I ate a bunch of cookies and got a bit off track last week.  I recognized it and I’m moving on.

I didn’t kill a puppy.

I didn’t intentionally hurt another human being.

I just ate to much Biscotti (OMG they were amazing) and taste tested a bit too much, which pushed me right off the wagon.  I held on with a death grip to the side though, and pulled my skinny ass right back on it.

Do you think we should move away from that kind of thinking?  That overeating is such a bad thing that we need to forgive our self?

Is it more harmful to view it that way, that it is something so bad we should be ashamed and apologize and forgive?

Well I’m not apologizing because I’m not sorry.  It’s just another bump in this thing called life.  If there wasn’t some kind of struggle, we wouldn’t be living.

This time of year is always hard for me after losing the parents and grandparents so close together.  I know that my little mini cookie binge last week was all part of that.

Grief is a funny thing.  You think you are dealing really well and a song or a smell or a laugh or a freakin’ TV commercial with jump up and knock the wind out of you.

And you deal any way you can.  Probably a good 30 pounds of my 65 pound gain was grief if I were to gander a guess.  I cooked my way through my grief, trying to recreate and save all the recipes my Mom used to make that I hadn’t learned from her.

I suppose that part is never going to go away, as I made every cookie my Mom used to make these last couple of weeks.  I did fine the first week, but last week, as we crept closer to the holidays, I guess it was just to much.

This is being mindful of your actions.  I’ll admit to rolling my eyes when I would hear people say crap like that but it’s true!  I really thought about last week and what had happened, and now I know how to avoid it next time.

47.  Damn I might be finally growing up.

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