At the beginning of the year, I shared my desire and commitment to take better care of myself. The holiday season had taken its toll on me and I was struggling to fit into my clothes. The economy dictated that a new wardrobe was not an option and therefore the only way out was a reversal of trends. The more I thought about what it would take for me to do this, the more I loathed the decision I had made. I searched far and wide for an easy exit; magical weight loss pills, a tummy tuck, maybe even staying indoors and living exclusively on social media where, having solicited the services of a graphics aficionado, all my pictures would be photo shopped to scale and size. I would take on a hermit styled existence and feed the world my very own version of fake news; and no one would ever get to know the truth.
Sadly, again, none of the above options was at my avail; for reasons of logistics, ration and feasibility. That meant that I had to take the less desired and definitely less attractive path to my destination. I was choosing a life of dull scheduled meals, regular road work and/or workout sessions, substantially less frolicking with my favorite black frothy beverage and also new to me, better and longer hours of sleep. What was I thinking? And all this for what?
I’m not the type to keep a journal but in retrospect, perhaps I should have kept record of my struggles through this journey. Struggles that I continue to face because alas, madness has prevailed and I still choose each day to torment myself with this life. Why you may ask? For starters, I was not going to risk taking the form of human Vitz; small, round and ugly. Also, simply because I chose to hold onto a vision; one where I looked a little more like those cool ball players that all the girls worship. I may need more than a miracle to gain the height, but I would be a little more chiseled and maybe, just maybe finally I would own a 6 pack that has nothing to do with a similarly stacked set of beers.
The problem however, is the agonizingly slow pace at which the results are trickling in. I have grown up in a generation and age of instant gratification. One in which we get bored easily and expect things to move sometimes even faster than us. It is therefore no surprise that I got quite frustrated when after 1 week of my new life, the weighing scale at the gym was barely shifting. I refused to believe this. I had finally encountered my very own version of the so called “Fake News” that Mr. Trump so viciously abhors. Not being the one to accept the status quo, I sought more pleasant results using another weighing scale. No change! This was to be the story for the next 2 weeks. It got so frustrating that I made a vow not to weigh myself for at least another 2 months.
Another reason why I am staying true to this horrendous program is because I have chosen to trust the process. A process that has worked for other people and one that I hope will work for me too. Of course it wasn’t made to fit all and sundry, because the dynamics do change. However the basics seem to be consistent across the board; eat right and move more. And like any process, it is just that; it takes time, it is a sequence of events and steps and milestones. It won’t happen all at once but it will happen. Slowly at first, perhaps even in phases, then it will gain momentum and then finally it will come full circle to completion. I must trust the process.
“It takes 4 weeks for you to notice your body changing, 8 weeks for your friends to notice, and 12 weeks for the rest of the world to notice…” or so they say.
I am only starting to feel the slightest of differences and it has been well over 4 weeks. But what this goes to show is that progress can take time, but it does happen. Many stories are told of overnight success. I beg to differ. This does not exist. What we see is the image that is presented to us after the proverbial 12th week. What we marvel at is the culmination of dispensation of what at times seemed like useless effort and energy. What we envy and worship is a collection of battle scars; scars so vast that they have formed one over the other to create an entirely new and beautiful being, but not without its memory of the wounds that were once beneath them.
What are you chasing? What is your herculean ambition that keeps you awake at night? Are you willing to hold the vision and trust the process?