So, it’s four months later and the scale is in the same blasted spot. There is good news though, I am not. I just read the book, “The War of Art.” I’ve been meaning to read it for 10 years or so. It’s a book about the creative process, doing what you’re born to do, and dealing with resistance. What does it have to do with weight loss?
I feel like I was born to write and I’m working on that now. I’m more dead certain that I was born to be an athlete. I have been that person all my life. Hell, even now, 40 pounds over weight, I am still that person. I am an athlete. I play competitive tennis, and recently started playing Gaelic Football on a women’s team. Creative me or athletic me, the battle within me remains the same: resistance.
I resist writing. I think of excuses. I think I’m not any good. I think that other things are more important. I think that I can’t think of anything. I think that nobody gives a flying **** about what I have to say. And guess what happens? Resistance wins. I lose, and maybe the world loses too? I agree that we’ve each got a purpose and if we don’t listen to our muses, natural desires and aptitudes that we all lose collectively.
I resist exercising. I think of excuses. I think it won’t matter. I think that other things are important. I think how good something will taste, and how good it will make me feel (for a second and a half). And guess what happens? I lose (not pounds, but something more important) and resistance wins.
So here I write, and here I have an enemy to fight. Resistance. It’s got a name now. I don’t know why that helps. I can wrap my head around it. My competitive athletic streak has something to beat now. I know that resistance will always be there, but I’m bound and determined to keep it from beating me. The world will see my words more, and the world will see less of me. Literally.