Battle of the Bulge

Every couple of years it seems, I decide to do something about my weight. I've been heavy for a good chunk of my life and weight has always been a struggle for me. What can I say, I like food. Actually that's not right, I love food. And I tend to overeat if given the chance. For most of high school and college I didn't worry about it. My weight was still at an acceptable level. But the freshman 15 quickly became the college 30 and by the time I was married I was well over 60 over what is considered normal. I had bypassed overweight and headed for obese.

About six years ago I started on one of the easiest and most effective weight loss programs I've ever done. I managed to lose 60 pounds without really even breaking much of a sweat. It was incredible. No I didn't do any of those questionable pill programs or lose weight while you sleep gimmicks. I did something far simpler. I counted calories. I bought a 90 day food journal from Half Price Books on a whim and managed to lose 20 pounds in those first 90 days. I bought three more journals and lost a total of 60 pounds over the course of a year. I felt amazing. I was working out more but the big thing is that I was paying attention to the calories I was eating. When I reached something of a goal weight I figured that I didn't need the food journals anymore. I focused on exercise, often doing two workouts a day, and stopped writing things down.

Since then I have managed to gain back 50 of those pounds. Apparently just working out wasn't enough when I was eating way more calories than I needed. Then after a while I lost my motivation on working out. I sank back into my old habits and started racking up the pounds. Over the last couple years I've tried to restart different diet programs. I've focused on volumetrics, I've tried to eat mostly fruits and vegetables and so far I haven't been able to stick with the programs enough to lose any significant weight.

If this break has taught me nothing, it is that I am not as strong as I would like to be. I remember the struggle of trying to build arm muscles to lift myself. That could have been helped if I was weight training and didn't weigh as much. Now that I'm back to walking, my poor knees are not happy and keep reminding me that I'm carrying a bit too much weight for their tastes. So this week I've decided that the yo-yo has hit bottom again. I'm starting back on my weight loss program. I've bought another food journal and will start it today. It will be worth the cost of buying four of them a year if I'm able to lose weight and keep it off.

I'm writing this for you to read as a motivation to myself to stay with it. I always do a bit better at sticking with something when there is outside pressure on me. This probably wasn't the best week to start since I'll be out of town this weekend. But even if I go over my calorie limit (1800 calories a day) as long as I write everything down I'll consider it a win. And I have to simply accept the fact that I'll continue to write things down for the rest of my life. Weight has always been a struggle for me. But a food journal evens the odds considerably in my favor. Here's hoping.

Poetry Friday and Some Self-Reflection

Did you ever notice how the very thing you need often turns up right when you need it? Okay well that only sometimes works. Normally when I'm not expecting it. I didn't realize that I needed the poem I'm posting today until I read it. I've been reading through Louisa May Alcott's short stories when I'm on my lunch hour. I'm not sure why I chose her stuff but most of the stories have been enjoyable. The one I started yesterday was not. But included in the story was the poem below. And it stopped me in my tracks.

I slept, and dreamed that life was Beauty;
I woke, and found that life was Duty.
Was thy dream then a shadowy lie?
Toil on, sad heart, courageously,
And thou shalt find thy dream to be
A noonday light and truth to thee.

by Ellen Sturgis Hooper

Other than the poor rhyme between Lie and ly, I instantly loved this poem. It is a wonderful reminder that work is its own reward. I often get discouraged with writing. I write a story and the moment I'm finished want to tear it up, claiming that it is no good. I put pressure on myself to write only good publishable stuff and my brain rebels. It shuts down and doesn't write anything. Then I feel bad because I'm not writing.

What gets me is that I used to write constantly. I would spend hours with a pen in my hand. I often wonder what happened. And yesterday I figured it out. What I'd forgotten is it was the simple act of writing that I loved. I've always loved the act of creating, even without the possibility of publishing. I've loved the idea of making up my own stories, of meeting my own characters. So last night I sat down and wrote. A story. And I enjoyed every moment of it. I'll never publish it, heck I'll never show it to anyone. But I wrote and had a good time with it.

Like the quote below from poet Marge Piercy, this poem is one that will sit on my writing desk, reminding me that I can write and create without any reward other than joy.

“The real writer is one who really writes. Talent is an invention like phlogiston after the fact of fire. Work is its own cure. You have to like it better than being loved.”-- Marge Piercy