Well, it is time. I cannot go on like this anymore. I have been pleasantly plump since I delivered my last child, almost 19 years ago. And since we have moved to Fresno, I have managed to gain another 40 pounds. And I am not sure why. I don’t sit around eating tubs of ice cream or multiple pizzas. I eat relatively healthy. Living with two bodybuilders, I eat only lean meats and fish. We hardly have any junk food in the house, with the exception of what my husband brings into the house, and really, I do too sometimes. I have a penchant for Double Chocolate Milanos, but I only eat about 2 a day. And I am not sedentary, I am on the move all the time. I walk miles at work, back and forth, back and forth.
When my kids were younger, and they didn’t have trained verbal filters, they used to say my butt was big. And I would reply to them, “Well one side is your fault, and the other side is your brother’s fault.” When my youngest hit the age of about 10, he said in response to my comeback, “Mummy, really? I am 10 years old, you really are going to have to blame your big butt on something else other than me.” Sigh. From the mouths of babes, comes the painful truth.
I find being exceptionally overweight is no fun. Over the years, I have tried to convince myself, that I am okay with being heavy, but I am not. I sense that people really don’t take overweight individuals very seriously. I don’t like that. I am a pretty smart person, but I feel being heavy is gives others the right to be rude, insensitive. And honestly, I am tired of being invisible. I know I am in my 50s and there is nothing I can do about that – like my husband says – the alternative (not getting older or in other words, being dead) sucks – but I don’t like looking and feeling matronly.
I also know this weight is an extra strain on my joints and sets me up for being pre-diabetic. At my last physical, my HgA1C was on its way up, which is very concerning, because it has always been so low. I notice my feet get a little tingly and numb, especially in my right foot. I don’t like that either. I tire easily, although I push through it because there are always so many things that I need to do and want to do.
And then there is the more superficial side of it. I look horrible. I look matronly and swollen. My face is puffy. My ankles swell. I don’t have any clothes, nice clothes that I can wear. And I love clothes. I love fashion. But there are not really any nice clothes for plump people like me. I wear sweatpants, and huge sweatshirts to hide my enormous stomach. And I look horrible. I am an invisible fat woman in my 50s and that sucks.
I have so many things I want to do, but there is always that little voice in the back of my mind that says, don’t be silly, you are too fat to do that. I really want to try out for “The Amazing Race” – but if I make it on there, I don’t want to be the fat, matronly woman that huffs and puffs through every challenge, and who everyone is relieved to see eliminated, because it is too painful to watch.
So enough whining. It is time to do something about this. I have been athletic, I used to swim in college. At one point, I actually ran, miles and miles. I have been thin, well, relatively speaking, as well. I keep a pair of Banana Republic pants, Size 6 that I wore before I was pregnant with my first child, and when I put them up against the pants I now wear it is shocking. I used to have beautiful clothes, and I cared about what I wore, and how I looked. I can be that way again – I know I can.
I must devise a plan. One that works for me. One that is doable.
I am a little apprehensive to use the A-Z Blogging Challenge as my journaling method for the first month of this journey, because if I fail, or don’t do what I set out to do, not only will I know, and my family will know but my blogging readers will also know. I must do this. I have to do this!
Here we go.
Photo credit: pinterest.com