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Today's Menu: Six tiny cookies, 1/2 small bag of corn chips, 1/4 small bag of potato chips, 1 small bag of peanut M&Ms (old loves die hard), left-over 1/4 serving of Pad Thai; large slice of watermelon, one slice of multi-grain bread with peanut butter. Oh, I forgot breakfast: one fat-free peach yogurt.
Is that any way for a grown, intelligent woman to eat?
I did take the stairs 3 times, walk twice the distance of the Lloyd Center Mall, and ride my bike to the video store. After which I checked my emails and then watched a totally useless film followed by "America's Got Talent".
It doesn't take a rocket scientist to see what's wrong with this picture.
Someone delivered a message to me recently. It was, "She's [me] got to loose weight." I thought, well, BINGO. That's how to hit the nail on the head. Why didn't I think of that? The next thing that came to mind was my grad school mantra, "Well, duh" -no offense to the sender, nor the deliverer of the message. I suppose it's got to be said by more than the wiser part of myself and the one that wears my clothes, looks at me in the mirror, and bathes my naked self (they're all screaming it).
In all fairness, I do believe that it doesn't help when people trying to be supportive say things like, "You're not fat" or "You look great." Perhaps if everyone I met reflected back the words that I say to myself it would get through to some part of me that would take control and steam those veggies, take me to the gym, and make me walk every day.
Inertia is not my friend right now. I'm in the second part of Newton's first law of motion (I paraphrase): an object in motion stays in motion unless acted upon by an outside force; likewise an object at rest remains at rest unless acted upon by an outside force.
The inertia of my sedentary and self-indulgent behavior; my reluctance to re-engage in the activity of being alive and vital has resulted in both physical and metaphysical baggage that I drag around with me because... well, I don't know "because" yet.
"Because" is the mystery. Yes, yes, I know HOW the weight got on and I remember deciding not to go dancing anymore. That's not the "because" I'm looking for. I want to know the because that stops me, the because that keeps me from doing what it takes to let go of the bags. Habitual baggage sucks.
What gets a person from understanding to action, from knowing to doing?
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Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Monday, August 3, 2009
No Action Today
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I could have gone to the gym. I could have ridden my bike. I could have taken a walk. I could have danced in my living room.
Each time the thought to do one of the above came to mind, I looked at it. It was a good thought and looked attractive.
Unfortunately, like to many good thoughts, they came to pass without moving from thought to action.
At each choice-point I chose not to bring my thoughts to fruition. Bummer.
I could have gone to the gym. I could have ridden my bike. I could have taken a walk. I could have danced in my living room.
Each time the thought to do one of the above came to mind, I looked at it. It was a good thought and looked attractive.
Unfortunately, like to many good thoughts, they came to pass without moving from thought to action.
At each choice-point I chose not to bring my thoughts to fruition. Bummer.
Sunday, August 2, 2009
Speaking of Being Overweight
Let's get this out of the way first, it sucks.
I spent the first 45 years of my life in a slim, trim, and oh so sensual body. Then a grand triumvirate of circumstances came together to pack on the pounds. (1) I was turned away from a training I had planned my whole life around and had devoted a good seven years preparing for. (2) I was living out in the boonies (not my cup of tea) in a relationship that was insufficiently sensual. (3) Being rudderless after #1, I went back to school to earn my Bachelor's and my Masters (all in one fell swoop).
The combined stress and disappointment of #1 and #2 knocked me off my stellar diet that included no wheat, no dairy, no meat, and no sugar. I ate lean and healthy, and I was swing dancing 3 times a week (that's a workout). I felt and looked fantastic. Really, I did.
Then we get to #3, undergrad and grad school. I did okay in undergrad but in grad school I got hooked on peanut M&Ms, the BIG bag. It turned out that I couldn't write a paper without my big bag of peanut M&Ms. Add that to the stress of school, lots of driving to and from the stressful boonies relationship, and grabbing food where I could find it and "bingo" I ended up weighing more than I did when I was 9 months pregnant (only 135lbs, yes I was healthy and not too skinny for the baby).
So, while I don't want to state my weight in this blog, I'm heavier than preggie weight... substantially. No, I haven't passed 200, not even close but I'm heavy enough to feel baggy, saggy, and gaggy. AND I'm on the upper side of 50 - upper middle-age (well, okay, if you must know I'm 55).
While not related to gaining the weight, another factor adds to my physical dissatisfaction. I had a mastectomy. No, I didn't have invasive cancer, just DCIS (ductal carcinoma in situ). So I'm also troubled by the loss of sensation and the discomfort of the reconstruction and implant. It certainly doesn't feel sexy - I'm still working on that. And because I don't have a man in my life (haven't since the mastectomy) I haven't reconnected sexually to a body that is altered in a way that could be a problem for a man (until he gets to know me and then I'm such a catch that the boob wouldn't matter). But, introducing the reconstructed, nippleless breast to a man for the first time gives me pause. AND I did (and often still do) feel like I deserve to "treat" myself with yummy chocolate milkshakes because of being deprived of my intact and perfect set of breasts. Now I have a mismatched set.
Now, back to the being overweight sucks part. I'm uncomfortable in clothes, bending over, wearing anything fitted, touching my own body, the jiggle when I walk, and the matronly affect the weight has on my overall appearance. For me, being overweight is unhealthy, unattractive, uncomfortable, undesirable, and unforgiving.
So, why don't I just go back to the way I was eating and acting when I was 45? That's the million-dollar question and that's what I hope to explore here... in rantings, ruminations, and revelations - in pounderous contemplation.
I spent the first 45 years of my life in a slim, trim, and oh so sensual body. Then a grand triumvirate of circumstances came together to pack on the pounds. (1) I was turned away from a training I had planned my whole life around and had devoted a good seven years preparing for. (2) I was living out in the boonies (not my cup of tea) in a relationship that was insufficiently sensual. (3) Being rudderless after #1, I went back to school to earn my Bachelor's and my Masters (all in one fell swoop).
The combined stress and disappointment of #1 and #2 knocked me off my stellar diet that included no wheat, no dairy, no meat, and no sugar. I ate lean and healthy, and I was swing dancing 3 times a week (that's a workout). I felt and looked fantastic. Really, I did.
Then we get to #3, undergrad and grad school. I did okay in undergrad but in grad school I got hooked on peanut M&Ms, the BIG bag. It turned out that I couldn't write a paper without my big bag of peanut M&Ms. Add that to the stress of school, lots of driving to and from the stressful boonies relationship, and grabbing food where I could find it and "bingo" I ended up weighing more than I did when I was 9 months pregnant (only 135lbs, yes I was healthy and not too skinny for the baby).
So, while I don't want to state my weight in this blog, I'm heavier than preggie weight... substantially. No, I haven't passed 200, not even close but I'm heavy enough to feel baggy, saggy, and gaggy. AND I'm on the upper side of 50 - upper middle-age (well, okay, if you must know I'm 55).
While not related to gaining the weight, another factor adds to my physical dissatisfaction. I had a mastectomy. No, I didn't have invasive cancer, just DCIS (ductal carcinoma in situ). So I'm also troubled by the loss of sensation and the discomfort of the reconstruction and implant. It certainly doesn't feel sexy - I'm still working on that. And because I don't have a man in my life (haven't since the mastectomy) I haven't reconnected sexually to a body that is altered in a way that could be a problem for a man (until he gets to know me and then I'm such a catch that the boob wouldn't matter). But, introducing the reconstructed, nippleless breast to a man for the first time gives me pause. AND I did (and often still do) feel like I deserve to "treat" myself with yummy chocolate milkshakes because of being deprived of my intact and perfect set of breasts. Now I have a mismatched set.
Now, back to the being overweight sucks part. I'm uncomfortable in clothes, bending over, wearing anything fitted, touching my own body, the jiggle when I walk, and the matronly affect the weight has on my overall appearance. For me, being overweight is unhealthy, unattractive, uncomfortable, undesirable, and unforgiving.
So, why don't I just go back to the way I was eating and acting when I was 45? That's the million-dollar question and that's what I hope to explore here... in rantings, ruminations, and revelations - in pounderous contemplation.
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