This one is going to be short, because it's after 2 am...but I've finished up day 7. I physically feel fine, but I've been extremely hungry this evening. I'm SICK of the lemonade at this point. I go back and forth between counting the hours until I can eat again, and wondering if I should go longer than 10 days! My tongue is still white-ish, and I don't feel like I have released any belly fat at all. Speaking of which...
I'm thinking that the stubbornness of my belly fat is more than just a physical thing. Sure, it's probably where most of a lifetime of toxins are stored...but it has also been the focus of a good portion of my self-loathing throughout my adult life. When I was 12 (and not overweight, but going through that awkward puberty stage), I can remember my father pointing at my belly, laughing, and telling me that I needed to go on a diet. It embarrassed me so much, and I spent all my teenage years fighting "the belly", even though I was not overweight. I had my first child when I was 20, and ever since I have hated my belly even more. I realized not long ago that whenever I look at myself in the mirror, the first place my eyes rest is on my belly. Not on one of my good features, like my eyes or clear olive skin, but on the part of me that I hate most. I've given it so much attention throughout the last 20 years, it's no wonder that it doesn't want to leave.
I read a comment tonight that made me realize that loving myself includes loving my belly fat too. It has served its purpose, it has protected me from toxins, it has protected me emotionally when I have needed it to (by keeping me embarrassed and socially isolated, but that was MY doing). It's given me a place to hide at times. It's given my children a soft place to lie their little heads. I need to love it before I can let it go.
I don't know why I didn't think of it before. I'm going to start talking to my belly fat. "I love you. Thank you for protecting me. But I don't need you any more. You are free to go."