Don't Laugh At Me

I get a little defensive about my actions.

When I was in high school, my brother decided to get in shape. He started doing pull ups and push ups and lifting weights. He started paying attention to what he ate. Maybe we wouldn't have teased him and given him a hard time if he hadn't also started wearing spandex shorts.

But the truth is, we resist change in those people we know. If your friend suddenly looses a lot of weight, then you suddenly have lost your excuses. If your peers can do something, then you should be able to as well, correct? If they can run a mile, you are supposed to be able to run a mile. If they can run five, then so can you. If they can quit smoking, you can, too, and you suddenly have no one to blame but yourself. See what I mean? My brother getting into shape meant that we should be able to get into shape also. We should also be able to be that active and that strong and eat that well. But we didn't want to. So we resented it.

I swear, the more I try to conserve on trash, the more my mother in law uses paper plates. The more my husband buys junk food. The more he leaves the TV on and walks out of the room.

Or maybe I'm reading into things, seeing things that have always been there in a different light. That's very possible and more than likely.

But I can't stand being challenged. I can't stand being laughed at because I buy the carrots that are not in the plastic bag. I hate being told that what I am doing isn't making a difference. Because at least I'm doing something. I'm trying to do a lot of little somethings that might eventually add up. And it's not easy. It can be kinda hard, actually. I'm looking for encouragement, but instead I'm getting laughed at.

But I know what I'm doing is right. I know it with a certainty I rarely feel. The courage of one's convictions. What I don't understand is why other people don't see it the way I do.