heat and humidity and bugs - oh my!

I've been walking every day since we've been in Florida. And it's hot as blazes. Here's hoping it's a habit that will follow me home...

Water You Gonna Do About It?

Well, I talked myself out of a diet and I'm glad. It's not something I want to do to myself again. The effects of yo-yo dieting have already taken a terrible toll, and I don't want to make things worse. You always think things couldn't possibly get any worse right before they do.

What I DID do was go to the Y. Yay. I swam laps. When I couldn't swim anymore, I held onto the side and did some conditioning. Then I swam some more. To keep things symmetrical and all. Then I had a little soak in the hot tub. Because I reckoned I'd earned it.

I was almost too exhausted to drive home.

My muscles hurt; my knees do not.

Awesome.

I need a new bathing suit...

Good Grief

So I decided enough is enough.

Things need to change.

I don't want to accept myself anymore as I am - I reject myself as I am.

I am going to start eating better and exercising more. This is silly.

I'm going to Weight Watchers tomorrow (I think).

It's time.

I went to the grocery store and bought some good healthy food.

A baby step in the right direction.

And I am starving.

I haven't even changed any habits yet and I already feel so deprived, physically and emotionally.

Maybe I don't need WW or a gym or a trainer - maybe I need a shrink.

Because that is wrong and it sucks.

Please, Mom!

I had intended to go back to the Y yesterday. And last Monday. And I think the Monday before that... Just haven't been able to find my way. Tonight the girls asked if I'd take them. More specifically, Lea asked if I'd take them because her beau was going to be there and she wanted to show off her new bathing suit. Good Lord help us all.

But I really needed, even kind of wanted to go.

And the morning thing isn't working out - I get so caught up in my morning routine, and that isn't part of it any more.

So we went.

The girls swam and I headed to the gym alone and feeling like a slug.

I did 20 minutes on the recumbent bike and that was it. Don't judge, that's more than I've done in over a month. I would've liked to hit some weights, but there are too many boys there at night. Hopefully we'll go a couple times and light a fire under my butt and I'll start wanting to go in the morning when it's less crowded. I hate cardio. I love weights. If I don't allow myself to do what I love, this will never last.

Yo, yo, yo!!!

It's been awhile. Did you miss me? I think I may have missed you.

I haven't made it back to the gym since the downward spiral began. And weird things have happened with my body. I haven't gained much weight - according to the scale - maybe a pound or two - but I look completely different and none of my clothes fit properly. I am lumpier than I've ever been in my life, and those are not just slightly depressed musings.

So what is the answer?

The obvious answer is to get myself back to the gym - even if it's just to walk 1/2 mile - 1/4 even - something.

But things are rarely as obvious as they seem.

The whole yo-yo dieting thing - lose 50, gain 75 back - does it work that way with exercise, too? If you get something going, then slack off for just a couple weeks, does it put you even further behind than you were when you started? For me this seems to be true.

I suppose the next obvious answer would be, "then don't slack off". But here in the real world, stuff happens. Obligations pop up. Better offers come along. No progress gets depressing. Making a daily commitment is - not realistic.

I don't want to be like this. I am really appalled, actually. I can't believe this is me. It's very very bad.

Anything I start will be put on hold when this surgery is (finally!) scheduled. But I reckon it's not a good idea to put off starting something till after it's over. It could be a couple months.

But the yo-yo effect! What if .....

Crap.

I'm walking tomorrow, if not today.

I need to.

The Spiral Continues Downward

I read this story in a woman's magazine years ago. It may have been short fiction, it may have been a true story. It doesn't matter. It's hung around on the back shelf of my brain for a good number of years. It occurred to me today with startling vividness in a dream. (Yes, I was dreaming toDAY. Stop being so judgy - you'd nap in the afternoon if you could, too.)

The story was about a woman who was hitting mid-life. She was chubby, but not fat. Not like me. Her husband was not turned on by her anymore. Not like me. (Or so I'm often told!) She went to the gym to become more attractive to her husband. And she liked it. And three times a week for an hour turned into five times a week for an hour turned into six times a week for two hours turned into - well, you get the idea. The weight fell off and her muscles began to develop definition. And she dug it. At first her husband was pleased to see the results. She was looking good. But he didn't like the time commitment that she was making to it. She didn't care what he liked, she was hooked on the intoxicating feeling of developing muscles. And develop muscles she did. Soon her muscles started becoming large rather than defined. She was spending several hours in the gym every day now. Hubs was not amused and did not find the growing muscles attractive. She started thinking about body building competitions. He started thinking about a divorce. She decided if it was a choice between her muscles and her man, she'd keep her muscles.

Do you suppose there's some deep seated fear that this would happen and I sabotage myself so it won't (on accounta adoring my husband)? Or do the FA folks have it right and I really just am what I am and it really is as hard to make a skinny person fat as it is to make a fat person skinny?

I am having an increasingly difficult time accepting myself as a fat woman. I want to be a slim woman. I would LOVE to be a muscular woman. When cooler heads prevail, I know I need to work on accepting who I am and making that the best me I can be. But sometimes... sometimes when I dream...

Stupid things. I would love to have a beautiful family portrait, but you can't have a beautiful family portrait with a fat person. You sure as HELL can't have one with a fat woman. It's such a stupid simple thing to want. I want to look nice in clothes and to buy them because I like the color and the style, not because "they'll probably fit". I'd like to show my arms. I'd like a visible clavicle. I'd like I'd like I'd like...

I don't WANT to exercise if I can't have all of that. It's not asking for the freaking moon!

Pfffft.

Because It's Not ALL Optimism and Good Job...

Yeah, well, it was a good run. It took a couple few weeks before I got to this inevitable place. I know this place well. I spend a lot of time here. I'm thinking of buying a little condo here, so I'll be more comfortable when I visit.

This place is, of course, lethargy. There are plateaus on 3 sides of it - that's the route I usually take to get here, but this time I skipped them.

I couldn't tell you specifically what caused this shift in motivation. I do know that my once healthy "I need to accept myself as I am" attitude is shot. Fuck that. I hate how I am. I want to be hot and if I can't be hot, I at least want to be normal for God's sake. Why is that too much to ask? That really shouldn't be too much to ask. And I want it. And I can't have it and that sucks.

I know I'm not making sacrifices right now. I eat pizza. And wings. And cheeseburgers. I don't indulge my sweet tooth often, but I do indulge it. Sigh. I do all of those things. So that means I'm weak and uncommitted and that I don't want it bad enough, right? Well, no it damn well does not. Because I DID give up all of those things. I gave up every damn thing that made me happy for such a long time and I still couldn't reach those goals. I was still shopping in the 'big girl' department and looking like a damn cautionary tale. Put down that slice of pizza, or you might end up looking like her...

So instead of responding to my new-old dissatisfaction with myself by re-doubling my efforts at the gym and starting to pay more attention to what goes in my body, I respond instead by - by giving in to 'sad' and wanting to crawl under a blanket and avoid the world. And even as I'm doing this, I KNOW it's the wrong thing to do. And yet... and yet...

It should be ok to resign myself to 'never being hot again'. I'm 46, for Pete's sake, how hot was I gonna be anyway? I'm old and I'm a mom and I'm menopausal. The bar for hot is set pretty low when you've got all that going on. And it shouldn't even matter! What value does 'hot' have, anyway? Oh, I know - plenty. I'm just trying to use feminist arguments to make myself feel better about myself. How's that going? Pretty terribly, thanks for asking.

I'll find my way back again. I always do. I love going to the gym. I just need to untangle it from this idea of a nice body/lower weight.

And, sigh.