BulgingButtons

Not bad for a fat girl


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And Now This…

Well hello. Long time, no see.

My apologies.

I could give you a list of excuses, but let’s just not do that, ok?

Frankly, I haven’t had the writing mojo lately. I haven’t had much mojo at all lately, if I’m really honest. My house is a mess, my body is worse, and my get up and go got up and went. And then I went to the doctor.

You see, I’ve had a difficult year. Nothing bad has happened. Not. One. Thing.

My son is fine, my sweetheart is fine, even the dog is fine. Thank goodness.

My work was rewarding, my class was one of the finest I’ve ever taught, and I enjoyed the way our team organized our teaching this year. Even our new administrator surpassed my expectations, so all the work boxes were checked.

So, what then?

What’s been holding me back? Zapping my energy and motivation?

I’m not sure, but I think that having my son go off to college was a little harder for me than I anticipated. Silly, really. He was in the next suburb. The one where I work. I saw him about once a week. And there were nice things about having an adult only home, like no dirty socks in the family room, and no dirty dishes all over the house. But in truth, I didn’t adjust very well.

If I’m totally honest, I think I was a little depressed, and since old habits are hard to break, I went back to my favorite method of self-medicating, food. So. Much. Food. And not the good kind, either, At least not usually.

And then, somehow, I managed to miss my bloodwork. And I missed it again. And again. Until the doctor’s office refused to authorize my medication and I had to go in. I did. And it wasn’t good.

My healthcare provider (who happens to be a PA, and a damn good one) called our appointment my “Come to Jesus” meeting, and he laid it on the line for me. Damn. So now, again, I have to start over. Have to. No choice. No excuses. Sad or lonely or whatever, too bad. I have to get this done.

I don’t want to weigh what I weigh.

I don’t want to become an insulin dependent diabetic.

I don’t want to have to buy two airline seats.

I don’t want to have low back pain from just walking around.

I don’t want to have to pay a premium for clothes that fit and look nice.

I don’t want to take so many pills a day.

I don’t want to huff and puff when I exert myself.

I don’t want to hold back my sweetheart or my son.

I don’t want to be embarrassed to be in family pictures.

I don’t want my mother to worry about me.

I don’t want to shorten my life.

I don’t want to be stared at.

I don’t want to feel less than.

I don’t want to feel incapable.

So yes, I HAVE to. So I will. Again.

It’s time. Time to pull myself up by my bootstraps and get going. I have some positive steps already in place and more planned. Writing more is one of them. Accountability, baby. So if you’ll indulge me (and so many of you have, over and over), here we go again.

I know I’m not alone. I know we all have challenges we face, and things that we ought to do, but find difficult. I hope you’ll join me in trying to refocus on what’s important, so we can all improve our quality of life, for ourselves, and for our loved ones.

 


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Food Obsessed? Ask Yourself These Questions

skinny-healthyIf you’ve been with me for a while, you may recall that I’ve been working with a nutritionist since August. I got off to a great start, and lost ten pounds fairly quickly. Then the next ten came off, and I was delighted. After that, however, I hit a snag. I went to my hometown and celebrated a happy occasion with my family. I stayed with my mother and spent the entire weekend going from one event to another, with delicious food at every turn.

Now I didn’t pig out at those events. I ate sensibly (for the most part) and didn’t imbibe (too) much, so I was still seatbelt-extender free on the trip home. That came as a relief. The trip, however, seemed to be something of a turning point for me, and not in a good way.

From that point on, (it’s been two weeks) I just haven’t felt the same motivation to eat well and take good care of myself. I haven’t thrown in the towel completely, but my motivation has definitely taken a hit. Halloween was the tipping point. I don’t even know how many fun-sized candies I ate, along with some chips and dip and a delicious helping of Frito pie for dessert. Yeah. It was that bad.

Well, I visited the nutritionist, and asked to skip the scale. She agreed, and we chatted. I told her I felt stuck. I told her my motivation was waning. I told her I was not being successful. Her question to me?  WHY? 

Why what? Why was all of this happening? Why was I feeling this way? Or did I need to think about bigger questions? Yeah, I thought so. So I started asking myself the WHY questions.

WHY would I want to sabotage the work that I’ve done to get healthier?

WHY do I feel like it’s more difficult to eat a nutritious meal than one that is full of fat?

WHY is it that behaviors that were easy to do in August now feel difficult to do in November?

WHY don’t I accept the responsibility I have to take good care of myself?

WHY would I want to continue living in an unfit body rather than one that functions better?

WHY does my heart rebel agains what my head knows is the right thing to do? Or is it my mouth that rebels?

WHY am I so obsessed with food and eating in the first place?

My nutritionist feels strongly that if I take the time to dig through these questions and uncover some of their answers, I will have more success in my quest to improve my health though improving my body.  I imagine she’s right.tumblr_me8cl09qP41qfhcbno1_500

Until I do that difficult and scary work, though, I’m recommitting to making better choices, planning ahead, and avoiding some of the food traps that I know trip me up. The leftover Halloween candy is leaving the house tomorrow, and a menu plan is being developed for the rest of the week. It’s not perfect, but it’s a start.

Oh, and the scale that I asked not to go on at the beginning of the appointment? Well, by the end of the session I was ready to face the music. I took a breath, stepped on, and was astonished. I hadn’t gained an ounce, in fact I had actually lost a little bit. The relief was overwhelming. I hadn’t sabotaged myself completely after all. The work I’d been doing hadn’t been completely undone. I was so happy I left the appointment laughing.

I dodged a bullet this time, but I know I won’t be so lucky in the future. It’s time to step up my game.


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The Evils of Mini Pumpkin Pies

I had to buy them. I was on my way to writing group, and I needed to bring a dessert. A quick stop at the grocery store was my best option, so I flew through the door in search of something sweet, easy to eat, and appealing. Near the front of the store I found them. A tray of mini pumpkin pies. Yes!

Not the real ones, but a reasonable representation.

Not the real ones, but a reasonable representation.

They actually looked more like mini pecan pies, since they had a nut topping, but the package assured me they were pumpkin. I bought them. I would have bought them if they’d been pecan too. I hurried off to my group, and put out my offering.

By the end of the evening, there were still quite a few little pies left. Not everyone likes pumpkin. There wasn’t a big crowd. Some people (um, like me) are trying to watch what they eat. No worries, I just put the top back on the package and brought them home. Big mistake.

I managed to resist their Siren Song this morning (how, I don’t know), and I even took the dog around the block for a walk. Yay me! But then, after work, things changed. I changed. I reverted to my old habits, and snarfed down several of those little monsters. I don’t know what crack is like (and yes, I realize I’m dating myself and I don’t care), but these little tiny pies must rival its appeal.

Long story short, the little bastards got me. Or maybe it would be more accurate to say I got them. The real kicker? They aren’t even all that good. I mean, if I’m going to sabotage my good intentions, I should at least do it with something wonderful, not a stinking’ mini pumpkin pie (or two, or three). Now, hopefully you’ll still feel a little compassion, or even empathy for poor little ‘ole me. Yes, I messed up, but I can learn from my experiences, especially the ones where I do things wrong. Maybe next time I’ll just leave the leftovers behind.