This is where I am right now:

Inbetween ditching the healthy lifestyle (I really hate this term by the way, but cant think of another one) and going back to the safety eating whatever I feel like gives me as an outlet to any emotional struggle.

Inbetween hiding the pedometer and the sneakers and going back to nice dresses and high heels for work

Inbetween starting sharing my friends' joints again in an attempt to stop feeling socially secluded and biting the bullet and go out and make new friends

Inbetween the safety of my job and company (if anyone can really call P.R. in the show biz a safe business) and risking doing something completely different but totally lovable for me

Inbetween the burning desire to have a child and the unreasonable fear of not being able to either have it or bring it up well.

Let me tell you. Inbetween stages are not fun. Who really wants to make decisions that involve a great deal of sacrifices. But when they pile up into all aspects of your life, they really genuinely give this lost and hopeless feeling I have been feeling the last month.

I was really in another inbetween stage too! I was inbetween dealing with all these inbetweens and just let them be and get depressed. And I have chosen the latter for a month now. But not anymore! I begun writing a post yesterday which I decided against posting. I saved it as a draft and this is what it said:



I don't know exactly what moved me from this last inbetween stage. Most probably a combination of things. A very intense and rough therapy session, followed by a very fun couple of hours in the house of my hairdresser who greeded me with amazing compliments, followed by a very nice trim in my hair and a much needed deforestation (amazing word I learned from Shauna) of my eyebrows, then a nice dinner of roasted chicken and yoghurt/beet salad (recipe at the end of this huge post ;), followed by a good night's sleep to be awaken from a very lustful husband who demanded his marrital right even if it was not yet my time to wake up.

But although each of these inbetween deserve a post of their own, I am slowly working my way through all of them together. Because all of them, though in different areas of my life are totally inextricable.

They all are tied with the same fear, the fear of change and what it will bring.

What will really happen when I wake up one day and weigh 69 kilos? What then? How things will be different? Well, I have been really very obsessed with this question for the better part of this year, and it shows in the way I have just maintained. It shows also in the way it has come back to haunt me with a vengence these past few weeks I am back into working harder to loose the rest of the weight. It was really very difficult for me to accept that nothing really will be different, besides the size of my trousers. I will still have to watch what I eat. I will still have to exercise. I will still wish to not have eaten the second piece of cake. I will still be self consious. I will still wonder if I should have worn the red shirt instead. I will still weigh in regularly. I will still find difficulties in finding the perfect pair of boots that fit perfectly. I will still have cellulite and whine about it. I am closer to 40 than 30 I am afraid, and the damage in my body is irreversable.

What will be different though will be the way I will value myself. Because this will be the only time that this struggle will reach its goal. And stay there. With its ups and downs. But stay. There will always be a secret smile in my heart. A smile full of satisfaction. A smile I will visit in times of self doubt. You know what? I think I have no right to deprive myself of that. I think it will be an act of disrespect to both my potential and life itself.

To be continued..... (cos I got to work too)