NikNamedNik
New member
Nik's Jourey to the Center of the Girth
It had to happen some time. My scale was creeping up over the last five years. Crazily fast it went from 115 to 125. Then I blinked and I was 140. Then I started to worry. I had always lost and gained the same ten pounds depending on where I worked. Work around food? 125 to 130 pounds. Work steadily away from food? 115. Then I got married.
All of a sudden my "don’t eat, just pick" habits, were replaced with trying to cook well every night. And I moved “to the country” and instead of doing the things I had done on the weekends, hike, rock climb and take road trips, we watched movies, grilled out, had “dinner parties” and went out to eat. And eating formal meals became standard. Big meals that I not only nibbled on as I cooked (You have to taste it, right? Otherwise how do you know it’s okay?) I then did the proper mom thing and called everyone to the table to sit where they would eat the meal for the first time, and I for the second.
Then…I quit smoking. At that point I ditched all hope. I thought a potato chip would be better for me than a cigarette so I gave myself permission to eat. I read somewhere that one would have to gain eighty pounds to do as much damage to your body as smoking and I guess I took that literally. It’s three years later and I’m eighty pounds heavier. I lost the battle of the bulge completely.
And it hurts. Not only in looks ( I went from cute and petite to short and squat in no time) but in what I can do. I used to like my body and what it could do for me. Want to climb a fence to go check out a pond, skate with my boys for a couple of hours, go rock climbing? No problem. Now I can’t do any of those things. It really hit home when last summer for the first time in a while we decided to go hiking in the foothills of the Appalachians. There was this old fire lookout and we wanted to the spectacular view from the top. Between us and that view were a few hundred steps. A few years ago, I would have climbed steadily, hating every minute but never hesitating. Last summer I almost didn’t make it. I had to sit down three times, sweat was pouring off my body, my legs were shaking. Others coming down were asking me if I was okay. I determinedly made my way to the top, but it took forever and was excruciating and embarrassing. It was also the last bit of hiking we could do on that trip, because I was so tired.
My body used to be full of grace. I used to go dancing. Now I shuffle about on pained feet.
But…I’ve decided to do something about it. Right now. Starting today, and everyday until I have my body back. Maybe not 115 lbs again, but the body that can take the stairs, climb the fence, and dance.
My starting plan is to move fruits and veggies to the front and center of my plate and use whole grains to round out the meal. Meat, fats and cheeses will become garnishments only. (A sprinkle of feta on my veggies? Okay. Mac n’cheese? Not okay.) I think if I try to get in my recommended 9-11 serving of fruits and veggies each day, it won’t leave a lot of room for hunger or for the stuff that’s not good for me.
My starting exercise plan is simple: 50 minutes of exercise 6 days a week, however I can get it. I joined the YMCA and I love swimming, so that’s sure to be one way. I also plan to go find out what this mysterious thing others call an elliptical machine is all about. I can also walk around my neighborhood, take my boys roller blading. In the future, I can keep adding other things to the mix to keep from getting bored.
And that’s about it for now. As I go on I can tweak it. But the first step is to begin.
So here I go.
Wish me luck.
It had to happen some time. My scale was creeping up over the last five years. Crazily fast it went from 115 to 125. Then I blinked and I was 140. Then I started to worry. I had always lost and gained the same ten pounds depending on where I worked. Work around food? 125 to 130 pounds. Work steadily away from food? 115. Then I got married.
All of a sudden my "don’t eat, just pick" habits, were replaced with trying to cook well every night. And I moved “to the country” and instead of doing the things I had done on the weekends, hike, rock climb and take road trips, we watched movies, grilled out, had “dinner parties” and went out to eat. And eating formal meals became standard. Big meals that I not only nibbled on as I cooked (You have to taste it, right? Otherwise how do you know it’s okay?) I then did the proper mom thing and called everyone to the table to sit where they would eat the meal for the first time, and I for the second.
Then…I quit smoking. At that point I ditched all hope. I thought a potato chip would be better for me than a cigarette so I gave myself permission to eat. I read somewhere that one would have to gain eighty pounds to do as much damage to your body as smoking and I guess I took that literally. It’s three years later and I’m eighty pounds heavier. I lost the battle of the bulge completely.
And it hurts. Not only in looks ( I went from cute and petite to short and squat in no time) but in what I can do. I used to like my body and what it could do for me. Want to climb a fence to go check out a pond, skate with my boys for a couple of hours, go rock climbing? No problem. Now I can’t do any of those things. It really hit home when last summer for the first time in a while we decided to go hiking in the foothills of the Appalachians. There was this old fire lookout and we wanted to the spectacular view from the top. Between us and that view were a few hundred steps. A few years ago, I would have climbed steadily, hating every minute but never hesitating. Last summer I almost didn’t make it. I had to sit down three times, sweat was pouring off my body, my legs were shaking. Others coming down were asking me if I was okay. I determinedly made my way to the top, but it took forever and was excruciating and embarrassing. It was also the last bit of hiking we could do on that trip, because I was so tired.
My body used to be full of grace. I used to go dancing. Now I shuffle about on pained feet.
But…I’ve decided to do something about it. Right now. Starting today, and everyday until I have my body back. Maybe not 115 lbs again, but the body that can take the stairs, climb the fence, and dance.
My starting plan is to move fruits and veggies to the front and center of my plate and use whole grains to round out the meal. Meat, fats and cheeses will become garnishments only. (A sprinkle of feta on my veggies? Okay. Mac n’cheese? Not okay.) I think if I try to get in my recommended 9-11 serving of fruits and veggies each day, it won’t leave a lot of room for hunger or for the stuff that’s not good for me.
My starting exercise plan is simple: 50 minutes of exercise 6 days a week, however I can get it. I joined the YMCA and I love swimming, so that’s sure to be one way. I also plan to go find out what this mysterious thing others call an elliptical machine is all about. I can also walk around my neighborhood, take my boys roller blading. In the future, I can keep adding other things to the mix to keep from getting bored.
And that’s about it for now. As I go on I can tweak it. But the first step is to begin.
So here I go.
Wish me luck.
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