I have found myself, once again, talking about weight. I'm over it, I'm sick of it and yet here I am posting about it yet again. Is it a woman's curse to be constantly thinking about her body? It's exhausting, it really is. Why, why, why can't I just be pleased with the figure I have? Why must I always be pinching and poking at my flesh, always scrutinizing what I see in the mirror, checking to see if my bra straps have sausaged the flesh on my back? Why?
Big Red and I have completely settled into our new digs which has allowed for the return of the scale. Damn scale. I haven't weighed myself in a long time. A really, really long time. I also haven't worked out very consistently, or eaten very healthfully in a long, long time. The other day, my digressions revealed themselves in one very ugly number that appeared between wiggling toes on the scale. It's the highest I've ever been. Ever. Beyond the ugly number itself, I feel sluggish and tired a lot. I feel gross and I'm disappointed in myself.
Two years ago this July I was married on a storybook day. I was 32 lbs. lighter. 32 lbs. ain't no joke. It's noticeable weight. I know for a fact that my body fat is at 30%. The free assessment at the gym I just joined (more on that in a second) dished up that lovely statistic. If you cut me up into thirds, just slightly less than 1/3 of me would be a yellow wobbly mass of fat.
Big Red has not gone unscathed either. He's been blessed with a quicker metabolism and a body frame that's naturally long and lean, but as he's gotten older, he has not been able to get away with frivolous eating as he once was. He's put on a few pounds, and while they're not really that noticeable to the average civilian, he knows it. He too stepped on that damn scale and got himself a little shock. I won't reveal his numbers to the world, that's not my place, but let's just say he ain't where he used to be. I will reveal that he has quit smoking, and has been cigarette free thanks to Commit lozenges for 11 solid weeks. I'm so proud of him! He is willing to get healthy and follow me in better eating habits, but he refuses to become a gym rat. What I proposed to him was that we make our Saturday mornings our time to do something active together. We'll bust out our mountain bikes and take a ride, go for a walk-anything. The point is we'll be active. He liked that.
A couple weeks ago I joined the local LA Fitness. Ha. The "LA" part is not lost on me. Anyhow, I joined and was even able to haggle for a pretty good deal. I thought the "one-time" initiation fee was a little outrageous and was persuasive enough to have it knocked in half. Score one for me. I have been once and am gearing up to get back into the swing of things. Call me crazy, but I feel the need to do things as clean starts. Let me explain.
In college if I needed to study for a final and it was 7:35 pm, I'd get started at 8 pm. If I was planning on starting a new eating regiment and it was currently a Wednesday, then I'd make my start day Monday. Make sense? Call it what you want, strange as it is, that's the way my brain seems to work. And the funny thing is I don't really consider myself someone who procrastinates, but all signs point in that direction when it comes to eating and working out.
My final day of subbing appears that it will be Friday, May 29. That will give me the ENTIRE month of June, unobstructed with a work schedule, to get my ass back in gear. No excuses.
My goal is to drop (at the very least) 30 lbs. That would put me back at Wedding Day weight and give me back a BMI of 23.6, this considered to be "Normal Weight." Where I currently stand is, sadly, in the "Overweight" category. The ultimate finish line hovers around 40 lbs. which would put me at both a healthy weight for my height and age, and back to where I was when I was in peak athletic form.
Beyond feeling good and looking good. I truly do want to be healthy again. I no longer smoke cigarettes as a social thing, I've cut them out entirely and am proud for having done so. My maternal grandmother died of a heart attack. I don't want that same fate. I am also approaching (relax, not for a few years yet) childbearing. I know from reading various health magazines that going into reproduction as a healthy fit woman not only makes the pregnancy easier to handle, it also aides in bouncing back. While babies aren't up for discussion just yet, as a woman the thought of children has always hovered in the back of my mind and it couldn't hurt to get healthy now, regardless of when Big Red and I decide to start a family.
I have no deadline and will not impose one on myself. However long it takes is however long it takes. My new job is about to start and I will say that I'd love to go into it feeling better about my waistline. I want to love my body just as I was beginning to last year (when I was working out with a trainer). I refuse to make any promises other than to simply do what I know needs to be done.
Being a woman is tough.
Being a woman who is critical on herself is tougher.
I'm going to try and love my body back into good health.
I think owe myself that much.