Somehow I thought that when I gave up the wine, my weight would just miraculously drop. I’m not sure where I got that idea. I’ve been battling my weight since I was a child, long before I developed a taste for the “finer” things in life. True, in the last couple years, as my wine consumption increased, so did my weight. But now that I’ve finally given my favorite pinot noir the boot, my evening snacking has resurfaced to take its place. And so the slow but steady creep up the scale continues.
I’ve been here so so SO many times. I could just weep with the frustration. But I’ve been there before, too, and I know it doesn’t do any good. The only thing that does any good is plain old-fashioned hard work and consistency.
And so here I am, starting over again. I’m about fifty pounds above my lowest weight, but also fifty pounds below my highest. It’s time to turn my story around.
I lost a staggering 100 pounds when I was in my mid-twenties. It was so incredibly hard: I swore I’d never let myself gain the weight back because I never thought I could do it again. But of course I did regain. It came on slowly, bit by bit, over the years. Several pregnancies. Moving house multiple times. Wonderful vacations. Horrible stress. In my thirties I fought with 20-30 of those pounds over and over and over again. And then, somehow, at some moment in time, I stopped caring.
I mean, I cared. I hated the way I looked and felt. I thought a lot about making healthier food choices or taking on a new workout plan. I made a few token efforts. But I stopped really caring. About my health, my weight, how others perceived me, and how I perceived myself.
So here I sit, age 45, and have to tackle this monster again. Because I suddenly realize that I do care very much. If I feel slow and old at 45, how will I feel at 60? If I even make it to that age. Because I feel like if I continue down this path, I’m opening the door to diabetes and heart disease and all the other horrible things that come with obesity. All the things that can cut my wonderful, messy life short. And I care very much about that.
Tomorrow I begin. I know my path. I know what to do. My eyes are forward. One foot in front of the other, over and over and over again.