I was one of the 37 million who couldn't look away from the trainwreck that was the two-night, four-hour American Idol premiere. Actually it was more background noise than anything else, as I worked on the latest knitting project. Said project needs to remain a secret; those who are to eventually receive it occasionally check up on me here.
But seriously, some of the people who audition on AI surely were set up to do so, don't you think? I can see it now: a dimly lit bar, too many beers, karaoke night and voila! Your friends have convinced you you're the next Chris Daughtry [who didn't win last year, but should have] and you must show up for the cattle call.
Do your friends and family offer you false encouragement regarding your weight loss effort? On the rare occasion when someone comments on my looks, I hear how well I'm doing and how great I look. I will admit to "doing well," if that means following a food plan and exercising consistently. But my mirror doesn't say I look great, and neither does the scale. They are as honest as the day is long. It's their job to be honest and they both tell me I still have 30 pounds to go, now go work out already!
These tools don't care how I feel. They're not concerned at all if I'm tired or discouraged or bored or fed up or, um, did I mention discouraged? They just provide data. It's up to me to do the work that will, eventually, pleaseGodplease, affect the data in a meaningful way.
It's up to me to accept their assessment realistically. The number on the scale, the number of steps at the end of the day, the calories burned and the miles run and the minutes logged – all those figures will, eventually, add up to improved performance, pounds lost and different data.
I'm not a robot, and my emotions sometimes get in the way of reality. But I'm mostly positive about the somewhat negative data I've been seeing lately. I've read countless times that you should have something other than an ideal weight for a goal. You know: pick a dress or pants size you'd like to get into or lose enough weight so you can wear your wedding ring again.
Or sign up for a half-marathon. Heh. No one encouraged me to do that; it was something I'd wondered about and wished I could do, but I didn't discuss it with anyone before I registered. None of my rowdy friends set me up, and my pep squad grows with each new person who learns of my goal.
One hundred days until race day.