Baby Steppin' :)

Last night I walked for 45 minutes, one minute over my previous night's walk of 44 minutes. Woo Hoo and all that jazz. Today I walked two miles in 54 minutes. I'm not the fastest kid on the block, but it was a delightful time with Caroline, both of our noses poked in books for part of the walk, and our voices running together as we talked for the rest of the walk. I plan to walk another 30-45 minutes after church tonight.

I'm not heavy....am I?

Rude wake-up call yesterday....I have finally eaten my way past a line I never thought I would ever cross. I have waddled straight over from Overweight into the squishy neverland of Obesity. This, from a girl who once was hospitalized for Anorexia Nervosa...a woman who survived each day on one Snicker's bar and one orange, both carefully sectioned off to eat at elaborately scheduled times. Unbelievable, and yet true. I stood on the flat ultra-modern scale - it does everything but pat you on the back and tell you everything's gonna be all right - and watched my entire ten cents worth of self-esteem shrivel up before my very eyes. The scale informed me that 96.5 pounds of my body comes from muscle. Not bad, I'm thinking, and then the scale haughtily reminded me that that left about 44.5 pounds of FAT. My cholesterol and triglycerides have sky-rocketed. I am officially an Obese Woman. Go figure.

I think it would be much easier to accept if I had always struggled with my weight but that isn't the case. I was too skinny as a kid, always teased about that, and even into my college and early married years, I was thin as a rail. Too thin, thus my trek into the world of Anorexia. I remember standing on another scale, this one in a private hospital for people like me, with rolls of quarters stuck into the pockets of my robe. Daily Weigh-In: it worked until a savvy counselor caught me and threatened to send me packing to the state facility for people also like me, but people not fortunate enough to have private insurance to cover the tab. "They'll stick an I.V. in you and feed you that way," she warned ominously. I shuddered. Force fed? I couldn't fathom that horror.

Now, two decades later, I am a Fat Person. This both repulses and fascinates me. How did I get to this point? At what time did my once concave belly morph into the bulging belly that now masquerades as a full-term pregnancy belly? I think of last summer, when a possibly well-meaning (but equally possibly catty and mean) person asked if I had done in vitro? "I mean, you are obviously too old to have conceived on your own...and you are obviously quite pregnant...so how did you do it?" I seriously considered pushing her skinny little catty self in the deep end, but I maintained my composure. I smiled beatifically and patted my round little Buddha bump. "Oh, well, I am just one of those fertile Myrtle's, I guess," I murmured before walking casually over to my towel and gingerly easing down onto the orange and tan monkey scampering over my beach chair.

I don't understand how, or why, I got to this point but I realize suddenly I don't need to know either of those things. What I need to know right now is simply this: how to manuever my way back out of FatVille and back into a place I once called Normal: FitVille.

Take a deep breath...this is it...I am ready!

Hi all! I turned 50 in June and I am finally ready to get back on track fitness-wise. I lost my father to colon cancer in February of this year, and I know that the way he ate and the way I eat are clear contributors to that particular disease. I want to look good for myself, for my boyfriend and for my daughters, but more importantly, I want to be around for my girls and their children. I have already survived a brain tumor, woooo hooooo, and I don't intend to let unhealthy eating habits derail my plans for a long, happy life with my family and the people that I love.

Okay, boring monologue aside, here's my Game Plan. I worked it out with God the other day when I was busy praying over the sad state of my tummy. Tired of being asked if I am on fertility drugs (since I am obviously long past child bearing years but apparently quite pregnant looking with my little round tummy), I sat down with my journal, a glass of iced tea and my favorite purple pen. I prayed for wisdom, and three words leapt out at me:

Walk. Nourish. Thrive.

Thank You, God! Simple, strong, sure. I need to walk every day, get in my exercise for my body and my mind, use that time to work out the kinks of my everyday little world. I need to nourish my body by putting in healthy, whole foods that will give me strength mentally and physically. And, last but actually most important in my book, I need to thrive in every area of my life by pursuing a strong spiritual connection with my God, my daughters, my boyfriend and my entire family and friends network. I can do this by having a daily quiet time, time to center and draw on the spiritual resources I already have, and time to shore myself up by finding new resources to supplement the ones I currently enjoy. I need to be open and honest in my relationships, and to spend quality, real time with my girls. I need to be with my dogs. I need to pray often, read lots, and rest more.

I weigh....well, that's between God and me! but suffice it to say that my weight loss goal is 50 pounds.
I'd like to lose it by my sister's Christmas party. That would be three months. 12 weeks. That is 4 plus pounds a week. Possibly both unreasonable and unhealthy. I could compromise. How about 2-3 pounds a week. That would be around 24 pounds lost by Christmas, which would put me at about 125. There. If you are paying attention, you have figured out how much I weigh!