Transformation in Progress

I’ve been procrastinating on this post for weeks.  Actually, I have been avoiding writing it for many more than that.  The spiritual, the arcane, academic, the philosophical, these topics come much more easily to me than this, the intensely personal, emotional and messy aspects of life.  But, seeing as future posts may not make much sense without it, here we are.

On the surface, this story is about food and weight loss.  Delve deeper, and it’s about love.

Below is a picture of me approximately two years ago.  Above is a more recent photo, it’s about a month old.  Notice any change?  Perhaps you will join the couple of someones who have made me aware of the transformation, for I am too close to see it for myself.DSCF0474

Through changes in diet and exercise, I have lost somewhere between two and six inches from bust, waist and hips.  I have let go of at least twenty pounds, but that weigh in was two months ago.  These are rounded numbers because I have avoided all means of measurement and tracking.

The main reason for this is that I was, and still am, afraid. Though there are a few select people who may wish I would stop gushing about how great I feel on this regimen, I have avoided talking about it to most and kept any physical changes purposely nebulous in my mind.  I don’t wish to disappoint anyone again, myself included.  I don’t want to fall back into that diet mentality that many of us know so well.

So, I hope you will forgive me, reader, if the numbers are not exact enough for your tastes.  Like I said, this story is about love.

Through trial and error, I am switching from a standard American diet to a nearly vegan, largely raw one.  These trials have shown me many things, educating me on the functioning of my body, but the greatest lesson so far is this;

Food is energy, the very essence of nourishment, condensed into physical form.  The food choices we make dictate whether we feed ourselves pain or balm, love, weakness or strength.

When I am having a cruddy day, beating up on myself, I want to eat junk, which just takes the self-flagellation from the mind into the body, prolonging the pain by means of indigestion, anxiety, acne and bloating.  If I can remember to practice self-love, the choice becomes easy.

Eating well doesn’t take away the pain, but it does fortify me internally, so that I am able to cope.  I also find that, because I am not numbed out, closed off by the narcotic effects of sugar and empty calories, that I am more open to receive the blessings of life, including love.

The journey continues, with no real end goal in sight, aside from improved health in general, though I will admit to some vanity. A smaller dress size would be a perk.  Thus my battle cry as I continue to wade through the temptations of midwestern cuisine:

I choose love, and I love food, and if it’s not vital enough to love me back, I’m not eating it.

May your own path be all you need.

Peace.

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