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.