One month ago today, I made the huge decision to really get on things and lose 26.2 pounds. My desire was sure and my passion sincere. I boldly told my family what I was going to do, and I told myself that this time was different. My reasonable plan only required me to lose 2.2 pounds a week in order to meet my goal by mid-May. Totally doable, right? Surely the desire to avoid family embarrassment would keep me on track this time, right? Well…apparently not. Because true to form, I pushed the self-sabotage button almost immediately after my motivated-to-change moment.

• Like a person addicted to drugs, I surrounded myself with food and made frenzied carbohydrate choices all day, every single day, for three weeks. I was like the drunk in a bar, only my intoxication came from Whole Foods, Trader Joes, and other grocery stores.
• HALO Ice cream became my nightly ritual. I told myself it was fine because at least I wasn’t having Ben & Jerry’s anymore, saving myself over a thousand calories each indulgence.
• I had Amazon Prime deliver two cases of individual Mac n’ Cheese servings for the microwave. And I always had at least two at once. Because you know, those 220 calorie servings are much too small.
• I binge-watched weight loss shows, and couldn’t believe how silly the people were who “said” they wanted to lose weight as they stopped at the drive through for fried chicken and 32 ounces of Dr Pepper. I wouldn’t do THAT! But there I was, sitting on the couch, slurping down snacks in Costco proportions while watching other fat people struggle to roll over in bed or use the toilet.
• I spent at least half of each day fully engaged in the topic of food or weight: obsessing over how badly I was eating, talking to my hubby about how nobody will hire a fat person, thinking about my disgusting, flabby fat rolls, and hearing my mind screaming at me, “YOU ARE A GIGANTIC FAILURE.” Fleeting moments of renewed effort would pass by, and I’d try to reorient to a successful mindset, but those dissipated quickly, leaving me depressed and shoving extra food in my face to shut up the negative voices.
• I started needing Tums again for heartburn, every night.
• I set out filled water bottles each morning, aiming to drink more water, but when I’d even think about drinking water throughout the day, I’d eat something instead.
• I started sleeping more, trying to erase my reality: I’m failing. I’m worse-than-failing: I’m purposefully failing. Who does that?

Last week a video popped up on my Facebook feed, advertising a Phit-N-Phat Free Weight Loss video. Like probably every other unhappy, morbidly obese person out there, I watched it. But this video was different. The lady specified there would be no “shoulds” in this plan. The only thing that mattered was to make a 24 hour food plan and then to follow the plan. What!? No calorie counting? No rules? What the heck!? I mean, it seemed too simple: Make a plan. Follow the plan. Then, reflect and assess the plan before doing it all over again the next day.

And so I started. I made a computer form to make my plan all neat and tidy (not her rule). And I wrote out my plan. It included foods I loved to eat, like cheese sticks, macaroni and cheese, and veggie hot dogs. That first day, I followed my plan eagerly, and I noticed one thing right away: I was cheerful, and I felt in control, having chosen what to consume and then actually following through.

Freaking out a little about how easy this was, I decided to count the calories I had consumed (also not a rule). When I found out the answer, I was surprised: It was 1862 for the day. I thought it would be a much higher total, and immediately planned to aim for 1700 the next day. After all, in my reflection time, I saw that those 260 calories of veggie sticks was a ridiculous waste of my calorie count–and they didn’t even make me feel full.

And so, at today’s weigh-in, I was 290.2, down only 3 pounds from my weigh in a month ago. “An epic failure” would be my normal reaction to this situation. But today I refuse to view this as a failure. Rather, I see this as if from the sidelines. And for the first time, I want to cheer myself on the way I would a friend in my shoes. The way I cheered on Dan as he suffered through his 25th mile in the marathon. I want to feel like I’m onto something with this Phit-N-Phat plan, as it removes the “can’t have” and puts me back in the drivers’ seat, sane and out of the tunnel of shame and stupidity.

I have to believe that the only real failure will be the day I quit trying. Quit reflecting. Quit believing I can someday be healthy. And this means I have to stop worrying about what other people think. I have to not focus on how overwhelming it is to be 150 pounds overweight, wearing size 24 pants in a size 10 world. I know that these focus points lead to new dives into wrong food packages followed by a dark and daunting hopelessness.

The mind is basically where my weight-war is playing out. Just typing about those problems in that last paragraph was enough for my thoughts to start whispering, “You’re just waxing wise right now. A month from now, you’ll probably have failed again.” This ingrained mindset is killing me and sucking the life out of my ability to succeed. It’s like having my mother’s negative words haunting me daily the same way she responded when I earned my Master’s Degree: “Do they make graduation gowns for fat people like you?” She never could just let me celebrate a success without throwing a jab or a mean look. And as much as I hated it from her, I have somehow become my own unkind whip, flogging myself with hateful words and hurtful choices.

Of course when I weigh in on April 10 and write the next 26.2 entry, it is true that I may have regained weight, stayed the same weight, or only dropped three little pounds again. But then again, maybe I’ll be more successful this next month. Maybe writing honestly and openly will help me to bust down the walls of fear and rip off the restraints of self-loathing.

According to Corinne Crabtree, founder of Phit-N-Phat, it’s time to stop punching myself in the face over mistakes. So whatever the scale says one month from now, I am vowing to accept it, assess it, learn from it, and to not quit because of it. I vow to hold my head up, own my journey, and continue to fight this battle against self-destruction.