Gratitude

Having read Diane's post yesterday with the image of the disability scooter, I thought long and hard about where I might be today had I not taken the first step to (permanent) weight loss back in 2007. It was scary.

I'm no longer quite in the first flush of youth! Certain bits of me, notably knees and lower back, no longer function quite as freely as they did when I was a teenager. However, they still work pretty darned well and generally give me only minimal discomfort. What's more, that level of discomfort is directly proportional to the exercise I take. Little exercise = more pain, regular exercise = little to no pain.

These days, I cannot begin to imagine what my life would be like now if I still carried something over 90 extra pounds of weight. Hell, but that disability scooter sounds like a real possibility.

Today's 'me' loves to walk every day, not only for the fresh air and exercise but for the space it gives me to think about things that happen in life. I'd go as far as to say it keeps me sane, sometimes. With the extra weight, I couldn't do much walking, let alone enjoy it.

Today's 'me' loves not being breathless, gasping at the slightest exertion. My asthma, even given a slight (stress related) recurrence recently, is pretty much under control. I'm not sure just how bad it would be by now if I still carried the excess weight, but I do know it would have been a serious issue.

Today's 'me' wouldn't be the person I am now - with the additional weight I'd probably be the pale, depressed, anti-social, embarrassed individual I used to be, lacking in confidence and hiding in dull, baggy clothes, trying to blend into the wallpaper and avoid cameras at all costs! I hated her and she hated me just as much.

I've seen a few women recently (some really quite young, as well as older), carrying excess weight and struggling badly, sometimes using crutches to help them walk. Even lovely hubby has noticed and commented on the increased numbers of people, mostly female, we see who fit this model. There but for the grace of God... that could so easily have been me.

I can hardly express how grateful I am to be where I am today, not where I was a few short years ago. I'm living life and enjoying life and feel like I'm the true 'me' once again. On my journey, I had a lot of support from you good folks out in Blogland along the way and for that I'm grateful too.

Diane asked "Are you ever tempted to give up, and what keeps you going?"
I think this pretty much answers why I will never truly give up, even when I am tempted to do so. I may have my down times and struggles, but I cannot go back, so I'll NEVER give up.

On track... up to a point

I'm delighted to say that, even with life's odd little stresses, controlling my portion sizes and being sensible about what I choose to eat are both going well. It feels really good to be doing something positive once again, and wonderful to see some progress (even if only a little) from both the scale and through the waistbands in my work clothes.

I'm not counting my chickens though. I am all too aware that this is a sort of honeymoon period as it's still very early days after my fresh start. I'm also mindful that food alone is not a long-term answer to shedding fat and keeping it off. I need to increase my exercise (in range and amount) before I'll feel like I'm properly back on track. Although walking is going well, and is very helpful especially when I've little time to factor in much else, I am aware that I do need to do more. I'm missing the rower!

On the food front, I had a small senior moment in the supermarket and picked up the wrong variety of apple (my usual is Pink Lady, which I love). What a good mistake to make though - I have Royal Gala this week and, far from being disappointed, they are great! Wonderfully tasty, juicy and crunchy - obviously right in season. Hmmm, maybe I need to start being a bit more adventurous and not just stick to what I 'know' I like.

Dinner last night was quite a culinary adventure. We had some leftover boiled new potatoes in the fridge, with some odd bits of veg, which lovely hubby popped in the oven with some herbs and a little oil to roast. This was topped off with some smoked mackerel which has been lurking in the freezer for quite a time. It sounds strange and I don't know what you'd call it, but it looked amazing and tasted even better.


Feeling positive and strong and cheerful today. Long may it continue.

Another bump in life's road

Wow! I've just realised that this is my 300th post. Can hardly believe I've had that much to say.

Well, we went to see the consultant at the end of last week but didn't come away smiling and dancing for joy. To be honest, the news wasn't all that positive - more a mixture of 'OK, that's reasonable' and 'oh hell, that's rubbish'. Lovely hubby's ordeal isn't over yet and it'll be a while before we can relax. Although they are reducing a little bit, it's still meds 'r' us for a while longer. It wasn't the news we'd hoped for and it did get us both down.

Added to this, over the weekend we ended up making an extra, unplanned (emergency) visit to the hospital when another wee hitch cropped up. Sorted (mostly) now, but not fun. Stress levels went back up through the roof and more than a few tears were shed.

Having said all that, and not expecting too much after what has been a less than fabulous Bank Holiday, jiggering about with what I'm eating and reducing my portion sizes is showing up on the scales and I've lost a few pounds. My trousers don't feel as tight and I can admit to being pretty happy about that.

I've been doing some pretty serious thinking too - more of that in a later post though.

Ups and downs

That's ups and downs in all sorts of ways!  Emotionally, in health terms, and (of course) in weight!

The last few weeks have been something of a challenge, just as I'd expected they would be. In some ways, they've been even more difficult than I thought possible. Looking after my darling lovely hubby following his operation was desperately hard. Not because of him... no way!... but because I've felt so damned helpless.

I won't go into detail, but he's had a tough time and I'd have happily cut off my arm with a blunt penknife if it would only make things easier for him. Unfortunately, there's been nothing much that I've been able to do, in a practical way, to make life better/more comfortable for him. Just be there, do what I can and then go hide and cry in private.

The worst part is over, thank heavens, although he still has some minor complications to contend with and will be off work for a while longer yet. I am back in the saddle at work but not finding it easy as I feel I 'ought' to still be at home taking care of him. Ooooh, those 'oughts'. Guilt trips 'r' us!

And like all of those guilt-laden times, the emotions (coupled with worry) can get the better of you and start to drive behaviour. Let's just say that exercise, never mind about kicking things up a notch, did not go well at all.

Most of the days I spent at home (and much of the nights) was a whirlwind of the various meds (and isn't timing everything too), cooking, cleaning, little jobs to do, pillow fluffing, companionship and tea & sympathy, so my planned time on the rower dropped right off the priority list. Getting outside for life's essentials was squeezed into as short a time as possible so he wouldn't be left alone, so walking was off the cards too. To be frank, sleepless nights meant I didn't have a whole lot of energy anyway. Still don't, for that matter.

Food intake was OK while he wasn't interested or have an appetite, so I didn't eat much either, but it went a tad haywire once I started trying to tempt him into eating a bit more for the sake of him healing. Yes it was all 'good' food, but guess who disposed of the leftovers!

Well, the weight dropped off me for the first few days, and I saw 59kg again for an all too brief moment, but then it soon went back on again. Now we're over the worst I've evened out at 62kg, not too drastic but not really where I want to be. And like Steve has mentioned at 'Log My Loss', oh boy am I ever out of shape. I look and feel flabby, not trim. Think not so much racehorse as carthorse!

Ah well, back to the drawing board for the fat lass. I've made a start and am bringing chopped veggies with a yoghurt dip for lunches. I'm making an effort to restrain (and re-train) my appetite and giving myself smaller portions of an evening. This seems to be going OK.

I'm walking every day (which helps but isn't truly the answer, I know) and when I get a little more free time, I'll step it up with some additional exercise. If my darling's meds (which I have to administer) are reduced after our next hospital visit (which I really hope will be the case) I'll be back on the rower in the mornings next week.

I'm not giving up. I'll keep on keeping on, and I will get back to having more love per square inch!

Expectations

Dear me. The end of July already and I haven't written a word here for a month!

Well, I guess this seems to be an appropriate enough time to think about my 'expectations' and what they mean for me in practice, right now, and for the future.

You'll probably have figured out, way before I ever did, that I took my eye off the ball quite a long time ago. I'd lost a lot of the enthusiasm for my journey and my many ups and downs and a considerable number of my posts over the last year show that quite clearly.

I haven't been paying proper wide-awake attention to what or how much I eat - at least, not in the way I was doing when the weight-loss mojo was working it's hardest. I haven't been keeping up the exercise to the level or extent that I should have done either. Talking about getting back to it isn't quite the same as getting on and doing it, eh?

What was that saying about those oh so good intentions and the road to hell again?

Well, I got away with it for a while. Call it residual karma. I guess I've continued to look sort of OK, as in not 'shock, horror' oh my goodness noticeably fatter, and my weight has remained 'relatively' stable... up to a point. Sure, it has wavered up a few kilos, from around 60 kg (9st 6lbs) to maybe 62 kg (9st 11lbs) or more, but it always seemed to drop off fairly quickly when I made a bit more of an effort. I felt OK with that, and that I could handle things quite nicely... up to now.

This time has been different. July started off quite positively and I did manage, if briefly, to drag my carcass back down to the 60kg mark, It was a darned hard process this time though. Much harder than it's been before, over the last twelvemonth or so.

Then a pothole in the road tripped me up. Oh no, not literally. This pothole was a summer cold... which lingered for a wee while then settled in, right at home, as a nice little chest infection. That kicked the asthma into overdrive, and it has been worse over the last few weeks than I've known it for years. Saw the doc and I'm back onto the next level of treatment and none to happy about it. Let's just say it's been getting me down.

All plans for exercise went right out the window and I got very low and mopey with constant coughing, in the day and at night. Sleepless nights led to feeling even more tired and run down, etc., etc.

You know what happened alongside that, don't you. Oooh yes, the fat lass comfort ate. I took great advantage of 'treats' on a short break away and overindulged like a pro! Those few lbs I'd worked to hard shed plopped back on in a heartbeat. Up I went back to 63kg, and I stayed there for most of the month, feeling fat, fed up and a failure.

This all brings me back to my expectations, which have recently proved to be rather dodgy ones. I think this is partly because my expectations had morphed from where they started. I used to 'expect' to have to work very hard and consistently at losing weight. As a very obese and fearsomely unfit woman for far too long a time, I knew it was going to be no joking matter to change my ways and change my body.

But, as I did successfully lose weight and got fitter, and finally found myself as a 'normal' sort of woman, I found those same expectations were now moving towards a less rigid approach, telling me that, once I reached a 'reasonable' weight and an 'OK' level of fitness I could lift my foot off the throttle. After all, keeping it there and concentrating on this weight business seven days a week, three hundred and sixty five days a year, is pretty tiring, isn't it?

Wrong, fat lass! Somewhere along the line you've forgotten the bit about this being a 'lifetime' journey to health, not a quick-fix diet to be forgotten once you reach the magic number on the scale. And, let's face it - rapidly approaching 52, neither time nor the menopause are really on your side any more.

I have another pretty big pothole on my horizon right now, with my lovely hubby being admitted to hospital. The next few weeks are going to be pretty tough and I'm going to find it hard to lose weight and increase my fitness. But, dammit, I'm going to keep those expectations in mind and try.