(Fleeting) Motivations for Change

Fear not, loyal readers; this blog isn't merely an exercise in failure. Although my guilt-ridden photos from last week suggest otherwise, I do occasionally possess glimpses of determination. They arise at opportune moments, like when I strive to finish a particularly dense journal article, or when I dive into my couch to see the Real Housewives of Orange County return from a commercial break (I don't have TiVo).

Determination stems from motivation, and in the case of Real Housewives, my motivation is to not miss a minute of Lynne's vapid contemplation or Tamra's bitch-please commentary. My motivation to get off my ass, however, is more fleeting.

As I've previously described, my motivation for past weight loss has been driven by a desire to....well, look damn good. As a 16 year-old with chunky thighs and a matching love for Arby's chicken fingers, I found myself at odds with my nearly invisible peers. Unhappy perceptions of my teenage body might be biased, I'll admit; they're likely overshadowed by more painful memories of unflattering jeans in a Kohl's fitting room, and sinking feelings of "I'm fat." Perhaps this is how I came to hate shopping.

Fitting room debacles and tears aside, I was motivated to change, albeit for the wrong reasons. Sound health was never my priority in weight loss (although I hope it one day will be); instead, I was plagued by adolescent issues of body image. Today, motivation comes from passing inspiration, like "I should be heart healthy!", "I should improve my strength!", and "I should document these efforts in a witty blog!"

But, as the old adage goes, you've got to start somewhere.