Suck it Up, Buttercup!
Tuesday, September 24, 2019
I'm not going to say that this time I'm committed and this will be the push that helps me lose weight. Every time I make a statement like that, something happens and I end up backsliding, getting depressed because I failed another promise to myself, and gain more than I ever lost. So no more of that. Instead, I say, I'm starting this today. Nothing special about today. No New Year's resolutions, no birthday promises. Just a random Monday, September 23, 2019 when I am not quite 48 years old.
I feel 80. Something has to give.
We went to Colorado for a weekend and I, who used to live in Salt Lake City and have traveled and hiked and skied in the mountains, got altitude sickness. I couldn't climb a hill. I went from vehicle to chair to bed to chair to vehicle. That was my vacation. My husband and dog are in significantly better shape than me, even though they are both (technically) older than me, and I slowed them down. I wanted to hike and help at the campsite and I was so winded and nauseous and in pain I could hardly move. It was beautiful, but it would have been more beautiful if I could get my ass in gear and move enough to truly enjoy it.
So this is the day I say enough. No promises to lose 100 pounds this year. But I damn sure will be more active, more present, more aware of what goes into my body and what kind of energy I'm expending or not. I think being present and aware will help the bigger changes the most.
I do have goals and things I'd like to work towards. My son is getting married next April. I turn 50 in October 2021. My fear (and self-consciousness) of flying is keeping me from my youngest grandson's first birthday party. I want to feel comfortable enough in my own skin to fly by his 3rd birthday. (2 years) I want to roller skate on my 50th birthday. (2 years) I want to look better in photos for my son's wedding. (7 months)
So, to do that, I have admit something. I have a very poor relationship with food. I'm an addict, I'm addicted, I'm an overeater, I'm a binger. And I went from being an extremely active size 6 who ran a skating rink and spent up to 12 hours a day on wheels and moving to a sedentary size 24 who feels pretty accomplished by hitting a mile on the Fitbit at the end of the day. I know how - I had a car accident and depression after losing 3 members of my family in less than 3 years and 3 (count 'em - 3) abdominal surgeries in 10 years and acute metabolic resistance syndrome to cope with. But mostly, I get complacent, I get bored, I get overwhelmed, and I turn to food. I get sad and I turn to food. I think about food and I turn to food. I'm sitting here right now typing this and thinking about eating a big glob of frosting because why not?
Why not? The 300+ lbs. on the scale. Why not? The fact that I am now considered morbidly obese - not just obese, but morbidly obese. How scary is that? I want to be around to see my grandkids graduate. That's why not. I don't care if I ever fit in size 5 jeans again. But I want to be here 20 years from now and at this rate, I won't be and even if I am, I won't be enjoying it. I won't be enjoying the mountain weekends or roller skating or hell, just going shopping on the weekend. So that, dear reader, is why not. I am not going to go make a big glob of frosting and inhale it. I'm going to drink my water, type my little blog post, and go to bed before midnight so my body can recover from my 35 minutes of activity enough that I can at least do 10 minutes tomorrow.
And guess what, I dragged this out enough and chugged enough water that I am no longer craving that frosting!