I often lack motivation for things, and I have to trick myself into accomplishing some tasks because of my lack of self dicipline.
With that in mind, I am announcing that I will attempt to lose 30 pounds. Not “I want to lose 30 pounds.” but “I will (at least) attempt!”. My theory goes something like this: If I tell all you out there in Internet-land, some of you will keep me on my toes. I’ll have someone else to answer to. You see, I can talk myself out of anything.
And nobody write to me saying I don’t have to try to live up to some immposibly thin ideal woman image. I am not doing this for numbers, I am doing this for me, for a change. I’ll even go out on a limb and say I’m doing this for Ron, because love me still as he does, he knew me when I was skinny too. And he liked it a lot.
It’s not just the “looks”, folks. I was a skinny young thing before. I didn’t know how good I got. Somehow, between kid #2 and #3, the metabolism or something went kaput. Or maybe it was breastfeeing for 18 months, and still eating for two. Maybe it was the Depo-Provera after that. There’s a lot of excuses, the end result of which is this, all looks aside:
I don’t feel healthy.
I don’t look healthy.
I’m not healthy.I have no energy when I used to be a dynamo. I’m winded after a short brisk walk up the drive when I used to jog over to Wendy’s. Now I drive over. I didn’t need help to get up off the floor before. My knees hurt when I stand too long. My arches are starting to fall as my legs twist a bit to make room for the extra bulk in the thighs. And you already know I have trouble sleeping and getting comfortable.
When I think of ME, inside my head, the picture I see is a lot different than the ME on the outside. So much so I am often quite shocked when I look in the mirror. When did I start looking 5 months pregnant *all* the time? Where’d that extra chin come from? How come all these fitted clothes gap open at the boobs? (well, okay, Ron is certainly not complaining there!) Who put those love handles there? My neck got fatter, too. Disregard the fact I have no clue what to do with my hair. I mean, I think I can handle not looking like I’m 19 any more, just, How did this happen?
So enough of the depressing part.
Genetically speaking, there’s good news. The women in my family all spread out a bit after having children, Mother included. She used to be a size or two bigger than I am now. She’s now the size I *used* to be. I discussed with her how to go about it, and she proved my suspicions correct.I can actually eat whatever I want, I just have to get off my lazy butt and exercise. She lost something stupid like 50 pounds by going to the gym every day, literally for something like 6 months. It worked, though.
Unfortunately there’s no gym within 50 miles of here. I’m making a deal with Ron which he has to help me enforce. One of those positive-reinforcement things. I can do something I like (read my internet journals) after I do a required task (like exercise – or maybe housework…).This may actually work for me.
I’m a prayer-type person, too, but I’ve slacked off a bit. One time I prayed for not wanting to eat potato chips (my downfall – I usually eat the whole family size bag, with onion dip, fat free of course). This worked for about 6 months. Every time I ate a small handfull, they would taste like crap, literally, and I’d have mean, mean heartburn afterwards. I got so the sight of the big yellow bag would turn my stomach. Eventually, I came back to it.
So if you’re a prayer believin’ person, you could help me in that department.
In any case, you can e-mail me and nag me to death when I write here what junk I’ve eaten and how I didn’t exercise. It just might help.
I guess maybe I should instruct the kids to polish off the rest of those doughnuts from the drive home from afternoon church…It would be a good start.