Aesthetic Cereal Containers
Well, here I am again.
Logging onto MyFitnessPal, tracking my macros, and trying to lose weight.
I feel like the last 10 years of my life have been a series of fits and starts- hitting my highest weight ever, vowing that enough is enough, and then researching and meal planning, and choosing a workout app or class that will totally make the difference this time.
The history on the “weigh-ins” tab tells the sad, sordid story.
Log: Highest weight to date
3 Days later: 2-3 lbs. lighter
5 Days later: Maybe down another pound or two
Then nothing.
Until approximately 6 months later, when a new “highest weight ever” is logged, and I’m coming back with my tail between my legs, attempting to start over again.
It’s probably been the most frustrating thing in my life because the problem is I KNOW what I need to do.
This isn’t an ignorance issue.
I understand calories in, calories out.
I have every resource, tool and piece of gym equipment I could possibly need to make this happen.
And yet.
My pants keep getting harder to button, and my Instagram algorithm primarily sends me belly fat miracle cures.
Yesterday I was cleaning out the pantry to clear the summer snack clutter.
In the process, I pulled a couple of OxoPop containers off the shelf.
The Home Edit label reminds me that this canister once held CEREAL.
I laughed a little bit thinking about my home organizing era- the place my blog and website started.
In the beginning, I went with home organization because I knew I could really help people. Plus, I could organize a closet, drawer, or garage in my sleep.
The first few times I went into someone’s home and tidied up a space, I couldn’t believe it. People were willing to PAY me to do this, one of my favorite things in the world?!?
But soon I realized that home stuff isn’t easy for everyone.
For a lot of the women who found their way to me, home organization and decorating are not fun things to look forward to the way they are for me.
Their home decorating and maintenance journey more closely resembled my forays into weight loss.
First, the clutter gets out of hand to the point where it feels shameful and overwhelming.
So they make a vow. They resolve to finally DO something about it.
They google “shoe organization ideas” or “makeup storage solutions” and then run to The Container Store and drop $400 on clear acrylic boxes and specialty drawer inserts.
All in, just like me at Trader Joe’s stocking up on supplies for meal prepping out of a digital PDF.
Then comes a purge. Trash bags and deep cleaning.
Until eventually…
They find themselves 6 months later with shelves full of unorganized cube containers. Drowning in carefully labeled bins that are frankly too much hassle to keep up with.
Same pattern, different problem.
What all my failed attempts at weight loss reveal is that, for me, initial motivation is never the issue.
It’s the boring, monotonous, day in-day out maintenance that knocks me down.
The days where my initial burst of “I-can-do-this” energy has worn off and all I’m left with is a bag of Doritos and a Dr. Pepper for comfort.
Afternoons when the thought of lifting anything heavier than the remote feels like too much to ask.
I know that those are the days that probably matter the most; I know they are the piece I’ve been missing.
But the shame!
It paralyzes me.
I know they feel it too.
I hear so many apologies:
“I’m so sorry, it’s such a disaster in here.”
“I’m not good at this.”
“I’m embarrassed for you to see this room...”
I always assure them that I have no judgement, and truly, I do not.
Because I am confident enough in my home expertise to know that a little clutter during a busy season doesn’t say anything about who someone is.
They have been living a full life and choosing other things.
Yet I rarely grant that same level of grace or understanding to myself in the areas where I struggle.
Instead, I tell myself I’m overweight because I’m:
Lazy
Weak
Undisciplined
Lacking follow-through
I stare at my tennis shoes and choose not to go down to the gym. And then I feel like a failure the rest of the day.
Nevermind all the things I did do.
If another woman talked about herself this way in front of me, I would shut that down- stat.
But I allow my inner voice to make her constant critiques, unchecked.
Maybe a year from now my jean shorts will fit again.
Maybe they won’t.
There is a donate box at the top of the staircase.
I wash and dry the old cereal container and peel off the label before dropping it with the others.
Turns out we’re not a “decanting cereal” type of family.
Plus, if I’m ever going to make this stick… cereal isn’t the place where I’m going to waste precious grams of carbohydrates.
xoxo,
