Looking in the mirror every morning I see little positive changes in body composition, nicer deeper curves of muscle or gentler skin folds here and there and then I rejoice, I leave for work triumphant.
At work the scale awaits. God forbid the possessed instrument shows a higher number than the one I have carefully implanted in my sensitive female brain and my dreams all turn to dust.
This is still a part of me. The little ballerina wanting to dance in the front row, the part that was told if you weigh less you dance in front and if you work really really hard and then if you weighed less that the others...well, then, the sky is the limit. It's also the part that gave me discipline, direction, focus and unusual patience, so it's not all bad.
I have taught hundreds of women to throw the scale away, to look in the mirror and celebrate the growing beauty that their leaner self brings. I've taught them to disregard numbers, cultivate happiness and focus on action rather than observation.
I sometimes become aware of my own emotional dependence on numbers and just sit and marvel at the little ballerina that won't grow up.
Last night I was listening to the fat loss teleconference that Bill Hartman had and later lied in bed thinking the only thing that separates regular fat from stubborn fat is time.
(time x effort)+happiness = change
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2 comments:
Your formula is brilliant.
Nice Galya ... isn't it amazing how we can teach others the common sense that we often find it difficult to employ ourselves!!
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