It occured to me late last night that I never really got around to linking the body of yesterday's post with the title. Nor did I really go into detail about plans and goals for this whole weight loss venture. I chalk that up to staying up entirely too late on a Saturday night and singing along to my playlist while typing. So let me finish up the life-slash-soundtrack comparison in this post before I get sidetracked again.
Music has always affected me emotionally -- perhaps moreso than most people. Maybe because there's always something available to go along with my mood. In fact, were I to suddenly be rendered incapable of speaking, I think my solution would be to pull a Bumblebee and use a radio to communicate my moods. (Hmm, quite the idea, that...) Be that as it may, though, certain songs in particular feel as though they were written FOR me or ABOUT me. Those are the ones that usually get put on repeat for hours at a time while I'm either bouncing along happily or crying my eyes out. (There are exceptions for certain ones. My sister has since forbidden the mere utterance of "Puff the Magic Dragon" in her presence -- I'll spare the details on that one.)
I've enjoyed "Defying Gravity" for several years now. For those not familiar with the storyline of Wicked, it's about the Wicked Witch of the West from The Wizard of Oz -- only in this story, she's named Elphaba. It follows her from college up through the point where she becomes said "Wicked Witch." She's a really nice person, but everyone disparages her because she's different, and every single good thing she really wants to do gets shot down. In the musical, "Defying Gravity" is the mid point, and it's Elphaba saying she's done with being controlled by something else.
Food has been my nemesis for years. Let's face it -- I like to eat. I LOVE food. And being part of a southern family (and I'm talking Old South here), there have always been lots of lovely fried things to choose from. Also, emotional eating is rampant in my family: it's your birthday? Let's celebrate! Upset because you weren't chosen for a highly anticipated mission trip? Let's have dinner at grandma's and eat ourselves sick! For years food has controlled me, and the choices I've made regarding what goes into my stomach have been less than stellar.
The crux of the matter is this: I'm tired of looking like a huge ball in all my pictures. I'm tired of hating clothes shopping (connected with that is hating have to shop in the fat lady section.) I'm tired of getting out of breath just from tying my shoes. I'm tired of food controlling me.
My next post will contain goals for this coming year. For now, it's off to find some supper and make that list of non-food related rewards.
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