The metaphor, analogy, whathave you was not lost on me this morning.
Baby J. is trying to crawl. Trying his DARNDEST, I must say. He wants to. He tries to. But, somehow, he usually comes up just short of his goal. His Daddy and I are usually standing by in the wings cheering him on but it's a no-go so far. But you know what? He keeps trying.
This morning, he was laying on his stomach and his pacifier was JUST out of reach. Instead of handing it to him immediately, I decided to sit back and see if he could get to it. His fingertips brushed against it several times as his feet and legs wiggled to and fro but he could not seem to grasp it. I could see the frustration build up in his eyes until he finally let out a full out wail followed by a lot of mumbling and griping.
That's when it hit me.
I have been working hard on my weight loss plan for two months now. And the goal I've had in sight? The TEN PERCENT goal. It's the first real milestone that Weight Watchers sets for you and that is what my sight has been set on...TEN PERCENT. Especially this week. A tiny, eensy weensy .8 pounds away from it, I worked like a dog this week to meet that goal at weigh-in last night. It was my BIRTHDAY and I skipped my favorite, all-time, sweet-tooth concoction...BIRTHDAY CAKE. First time in 37 years I haven't had a slice of birthday cake--but my goal was within reach. I ate fish instead of burgers, asparagus instead of french fries...I was on my way. I also worked out harder--and longer--and went into the meeting hoping against all hope to lose that POINT EIGHT of a pound.
Donning my lightest clothing and even my worst bra because it had no underwire (I'm just sayin'-- I will stop at nothing) I told Dana, my WW leader, the amount I needed to lose before ever so gingerly stepping up on the scale. She looked at the scale, looked back at me, looked back at the scale and slowly started to write. As I saw the numbers emerge, I quickly did the math only to realize that I had lost POINT TWO of a pound. POINT TWO? Are you kidding me?
My heart sank.
Instead of going to the meeting, I wanted to go to the nearset bakery, purchase the largest chunk of white birthday cake with white birthday cake icing I could find and devour it. I was dejected. Much like Baby J. grasping desperately for the pacifier, I was grasping for my first real goal yet my fingertips just barely touched it instead.
During the meeting, I know I was quite disruptive as I sat on the back row and winced each time she called out a 5-pound goal award or the coveted 10% award. I'm even a tad over a pound away from my 25-pound award and she called that out, too. I wanted to scream out, "BUT I WAS SO CLOSE!" Instead, I took it like a big girl...sorta. I sucked it up and tried to focus on the fact that I did lose...if even two-tenths of a pound. It was somethin.
But as I watched Baby J. crying out in frustration as he tried to reach his pacifier this morning, I felt renewed. We all struggle in some way. For me, this has not been an easy task. But as I watched that sweet little foot push off of the carpet and propel him forward just enough to grasp the elusive green pacifier--his goal--I cheered and clapped and celebrated with him. He had finally pushed enough to reach his goal. He had not given up.
And neither will I.