I'm on a diet. And I hate diets. But I hate feeling fat and unhealthy more. And I'm pissed. Furious because I let myself get this way when I know better. Been in this place once before and SWORE I'd not do it again. I hate it when I lie to myself!
(Now, before we go any further, let me give this disclaimer. I'm talking about me. Only me. I'm not dissing others that may be overweight. I'm ONLY talking about me and how I feel. And that's my right, just as it is another's right to keep that extra poundage on. Okay?
So before I get slammed in the comments, understand if you're a few (or more) pounds over the "Norm" and are happy with that, good on you. It's your body...your right. But for me, I just feel yucky and unhealthy when I let those extra pounds creep up on me.
'Nuff said? Good. Moving on...)
Before my surgery a few years ago, I was at what I considered my perfect weight. I looked good, and more importantly, I felt good. Healthy and energetic. Then I went under the knife, and because I couldn't exercise for SIX BLOODY WEEKS, even with careful eating, I gained a few pounds.
Now, if you're like me, once you start exercising and get in the habit, it's easier to keep on doing it. But stop for any reason, even something important like your health, and it is REALLY difficult to get back on track again.
And for me, we started up with Cirque about that time, so we headed straight to Europe. And I have to tell you. It's horribly hard to diet in Paris. All that delicious rich food? And Belgium? Let's just say their beers are not low calorie! And don't even get me started on Switzerland and its chocolate.
So, by the time we got to Germany and streusel, black forest cake, brautwurst and all the other yummy cuisine of that country, I was slowly and inexorably adding on the weight.
I started exercising again, but it isn't easy in a small hotel room. I kept putting it off and assuming all the walking I did as I explored the cities we visited would do the trick. It helped, but little by little my weight just kept increasing.
It wasn't until I was in Rio that it came to a head. I was walking on the beach with Jonathon and my daughter Jessaca, and she took a picture of us from behind as we walked. When later that night, we looked at the pics, I literally screamed out loud. Scared the crap out of them both.
I was fat. Really fat. I had rolls on my back. Rolls upon rolls. I was wearing a two piece suit and everything and I do mean everything showed. And it was ugly.
Did I mention I was pissed about this?
So I started watching myself, but in South America they do a lot of fried food and it's tough to diet when you enjoy trying all the fun dishes a country offers. I dieted when I was at home, but when we went out, it was a struggle.
And then I injured myself climbing at Macchu Pichu. Hurt my knee so I couldn't exercise. The weight started to pile on again. And then the final nail in the coffin happened.
We went to Budapest, Hungry during our break from Europe to the USA. And what is the number one hungarian food? Fried Bread. Covered in cheese and thick sour cream sauce. And unfortunately, it was AWESOME!!! I pigged out. Add a few stuffed cabbage leaves, another Hungarian dish, and I put on ten pounds just in the time we were there.
But now we're back in the states. No excuses, no reasons to eat out. Been there, done that. I started a healthy diet once we got to Columbus, with swimming every day as my exercise since it won't hurt my bad knee. And I'm proud to say I've lost a lot of weight. As of the time this blog will post, I'll be close to losing half my targeted weight. WooHoo!
Now I know my body, and I realize the first pounds for me are the easiest. But it also motivates me, and while I'm still furious with myself that I let it go for soooooo long, at least I can look in the mirror and tell what I'm doing IS making a difference. I feel good about myself again. Energetic and looking forward to what's ahead.
I still have that picture of me in Rio up in the bathroom. It reminds me to stay motivated. And when I compare it to what I see in the mirror, I can smile. I like myself again.
And isn't that what it's all about?
Until next time...
Follow Your Dreams
Follow Your Dreams