You may know that 2 years ago I decided to get serious about losing 20# that just really needed to go. It took me 5 months to reach that goal and I did it by counting calories, exercise and perseverance. The outcome was that I lost 25#, felt good about it and had reestablished a fitness pattern that kept me walking just about every day, rain or shine. I had earned some bragging rights.
|from Sept. 2013, when I reached my goal of losing 20#|
But the downside of losing weight through counting calories (and not very many of them since it was a 1200 calorie diet) is that when I reached my goal and went into 'maintenance' the struggle to keep it off was harder than the diet. But, again, exercise and perseverance paid off and I kept the weight off for a year. Then... last summer, I relaxed a little... I didn't count calories every day and I didn't pay attention to what I was stuffing in my mouth quite as much. Because, frankly, who wants to live that way every day for the rest of your life? Apparently, those who wish to remain skinny, because in just a few short weeks, with a couple of vacation/road trips thrown in, 5# had re-attached themselves to me, mostly in the most unattractive place possible for a woman-- my gut!!
Now, granted five pounds doesn't sound so bad and I justified it by saying I was still within my goal weight range (remember, I started out just wanting to lose 20) but I think we all know we prefer to see the pointer on the scale be on that side of the number rather than the other side. And I could see the pointer creeping, wavering, teetering the wrong direction. Like creeping affluence, if I didn't get this in check I'd be back where I was before the diet! Add to this, I just felt sluggish, tired, bloated and, well, just not so great anymore. And because the majority of it seemed settled in my mid-section, it felt difficult to disguise it or ignore it.
Over the winter I tried numerous times to shake it off. Every Monday morning I'd start with best intentions but by around 3 pm I'd be scooping peanut butter out of the jar and slathering it on a granola bar or a banana. Every night as I laid in bed, I'd reprimand myself and lay out a plan for the next day. "No cream in my coffee. If I just give up cream in my coffee I bet I'd lose some weight over time." or "no more butter. or peanut butter." and every day I'd fail. After a few weeks of this I'd shake my head and say "oh well, whatever" and pull out another loose fitting top to wear to hide my muffin-top.
As spring rolled around and I started the process of rotating spring and summer wear to the front and putting heavy sweaters and such in the back, the thought occurred to me that a lot of my cute summer wear might not fit as well.... but I was wrong. They didn't really fit AT ALL. I wasn't just dealing with some extra weight, I was dealing with inches, rolls, of unwanted fat! Maybe the weight gain was a measly five (okay, now 6) pounds but my body (thank you post-menopause) had really changed in shape. It was kind of depressing. Who am I kidding? It was all kinds of Yuck! Something had to change. Something had to give.
to be continued...