And the Scale Says...

I am gaining weight.  Despite my commitment to healthy living, eating right and exercising, I find my resolve is waning.  It's not like I am buying junk food and stacking my cupboards with unhealthy things.  I am still doing my very best to prepare healthy meals and snacks for my family, but I just can't seem to get my eating right, nor my motivation to exercise.  The worst part of it all is that when I look in the mirror, I can see exactly where I've put on the weight.  It makes me kind of sad. 

I've fallen into some bad habits again.  In my busyness this past month, I have stopped actually preparing meals for myself.  I will eat breakfast (this is a habit I couldn't get rid of even if I tried), but lunch is usually non-existent for me.  And then I snack on bits and pieces of things all day long, just letting the calories add up.  It wouldn't be so bad except for the fact that I am not getting any physical activity.  I am not necessarily eating poorly, especially for breakfast and supper, it's just the in between that kills me, not to mention the late night eating.  I just can't stop myself.

I could come up with a gazillion excuses, but that doesn't change anything, and it certainly doesn't help me.  I have been sick, sure.  I have been exhausted, yeah.  I have been stressed, definitely.  But that doesn't make it okay that I have let things slip enough that I am not able to maintain my weight.  Thus far my slip ups haven't made me gain a significant amount of weight, but if I don't get myself out of this slump, I know that I will end up unhealthy and unhappy.  I feel like a huge failure.

I think that's probably where this all comes from.  I feel like I've been failing - or just barely surviving - in a lot of things.  It's little stuff, and silly when I say it out loud (or type it), but even things like keeping my back yard clean so that the toys don't get destroyed by rain, or folding and putting away the laundry when I wash it, or cleaning the areas of my house that no one actually sees make me feel like I'm failing at just merely living.  Like I said, it sounds silly, but I compare myself to standards I grew up in, and I just can never cut it.  My mom kept our house literally spotless, and my step dad was also like that.  Every time I cleaned something, my mom would just go along and do it again right behind me.  I'm sure she didn't realize it, but that totally gave me a complex!  Now, if things aren't absolutely spotless when I have people over, I get agitated and stressed out.  UGH, talk about a neurotic, ridiculous complex.  I feel like a failure as a homemaker when things aren't perfect, and to be honest, they never are in my eyes.

So, my stress manifests itself like it always does - on my waistline.  I don't want to go back where I was, and I know I am having a problem.  It's just a matter of slapping myself out it, waking up, moving my butt.  Maybe I could use a little help, but I fail to see where I can get it... Boo hoo, right?  I'm a grown woman, so I just need to get it together.  But, I thought I'd share it, get it out so that I can move on.  Anyone else feel  this way?