Ladies and Gentlemen: The 2x4 of Motivation

First off, I apologize for not having written in the last week or two. The more discouraged I get, the less I write. The less I write, the less I do. The less I do, the less I lose. And the less I lose, the more discouraged I get. It's a vicious cycle I've fallen into lately.

Therefore, I really do think I should write. It solves the whole problem, if you look at it by that logic.

So the goal is to get this going on a Monday-Wednesday-Friday schedule so I don't overload anyone (including myself) but I still have a commitment to make so that I'll be on time.

Yes, I'm aware that it's Tuesday.

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I have one of those multi-day orientations coming up next week for work. Now, I've experienced many of these, particularly in the last six or seven years. Leadership summits. Undergrad orientation (heh). Scholarship conferences. Two week-long orientation sessions when I studied abroad. Grad school orientation (which was the best of the lot of them, mostly because they offered wine. This is common practice, as it soothes the nerves of the perpetually disgruntled and overworked intellectual elitists known as grad students. If your field has an -ology attached, they offer even more wine.) But I digress. The point is, I've never liked these things. I see their value, but I still find myself wanting to counterfeit a jury summons just to get out of them. Why?

Because orientations are designed to showcase their participants in an effort to get everyone acquainted. But since we don't want to ruffle any feathers, we're going to build camaraderie by leveling the field with some easy, fun activities that everyone can do. Like the Funky Chicken. Slightly embarrassing, but we're all doing it, so it's fun, right?

Not at 300 pounds. At that size, there's no way to dance the Funky Chicken without feeling more like the Funky Albatross of the group. The scavenger hunts around town (or even around campus) do me in after about fifteen minutes. And sometimes, when they include really interesting things (like the surfing lessons in Australia) I have to sit out altogether because there simply isn't a wetsuit in my size. Sorry.

And of course, none of this bodes well for making first impessions. In the end, I spend so much time hiding or compensating for my weight that I never actually get the chance to showcase my strengths. Things like my charisma, my intellect, and my off-kilter sense of humor have been irrevocably silenced because I'm too afraid to speak up for fear of looking like a fool or drawing attention to my unappealing form. I spend these times people-watching, learning the ropes by proxy. Safer, but inevitably lonely. It doesn't help, of course, that this shoots me in the foot. I remember the end of several of these events where at the end of the week, I shake the hands of the other participants and go to wish them well. The general response? "I'm sorry, what's your name again? You were here for the whole week? Really? I'm sorry, I didn't notice..."

Yet we wonder why there's such a correlation between obesity and low self-esteem.

I don't talk about this out of a desire to be a cynic, a downer, or even a disgruntled grad student. In all actuality, I wonder now if blaming this discomfort on my weight hasn't all been a crutch. A defense mechanism to keep me from looking foolish, or else a scapegoat for when I do. You see, I generally operate on the assumption that when one person first views another, their eyes go from general to specific. A short fat woman. And then things like hair, eyes, and the food stuck between your front teeth come into play. So, based on that, I assume that I'm somehow at a disadvantage when making first impressions because my physical form isn't appealing. Then, when forced into physical activity (something at which I fail spectacularly) in front of strangers... I lose my nerve because I think I've lost all hope of making a good impression.

And so because I'm embarrassed or frightened at being out of my element, I actually shut off all those good attributes I talked about before in an effort to blend in. And then I blend in so well that I could be singing "Mr. Cellophane" from the musical Chicago.

And it's all my own doing. Well done me.

This is where the "remix of perspective" comes in. If I assume that losing weight will make me into a more confident, vibrant person, I've got a serious case of logic dyslexia. Being a confident, vibrant person will help me lose weight.

Don't believe me? Try this on for size.

The only people that actually make positive changes in their lives are the ones who care enough about themselves to do so.

Tough love, isn't it? But whether I like it or not, it's true -- no matter how I look at it. And it's a hard one for me to admit, considering that I think of myself as a charismatic, confident person. It hits me right in the gut to think that maybe I've been hiding behind my weight, using it as an excuse to not have to step up.

I was going to end this post with something quasi-profound, but I think I need to take a bit more time to ponder the full implications of what I've just said.

I wonder if it's possible to choke on your own moral fiber.