Last September, I had some friends over.

Being women, we were all sort of sitting in my living room complaining a bit about some weight we had gained. All of us.

We were bummed about it.

I showed my friends the treadmill I have set up in our "TV room."
I told them I planned to really buckle down, and diet for Christmas.
I was really going to start exercising regularly.
To lose the pounds I'd gained.


One of them said, "You really don't have any excuse, do you."


It was like a lightening bolt.
A poke in the eye.
A slap in the face.
Cold water.


She was absolutely right.
Absolutely.
I really don't have any excuse.


Excuse me now.
I've gotta go get on that treadmill.


RJ

Fighting the Gloom

After dieting and exercising, and then going to Weight Watchers last week and actually GAINING a pound and a half, well I fell off the wagon.

I was so angry.
I said, "the hell with it. Why bother."

I have spent the last week eating whatever I wanted at breakfast, lunch and dinner.

But I KNOW why I have to "bother."
Because if I don't...things will just get worse.
I will not maintain.
I will gain.

So I've crawled back up on the wagon again.
And I'm going to try to hold on.

With my greasy little fingers.

Failure

Good God.

I went to Weight Watchers Thursday evening.
I felt good about myself.
I had been good on my diet for two weeks.
Not even a smidgen of pumpkin pie for Thanksgiving.

When I weighed in...the leader said:
"Good news. You only went up a pound and a half over the holiday!"

WENT UP A POUND AND A HALF????!!!
GOOD NEWS!!!!?????????????

I was absolutely depressed and dejected.
I don't know what the answer is.

I've made it to Sunday morning.

Holiday weekends are hard...but I've made it through.

Tomorrow it's back to work.
Which is a whole different ballgame:
the getting up early, the rushing around, the madness of being part of a great newsroom,
the utter sadness of some of the stories we will be covering.

But I'm planning to continue my quiet little "dance with discipline."
And hopefully, I'll land on my feet.

Finding My Own Way.

My friend says,
"Oh good! I see you followed the Michael Winner Diet - eat what you like, but eat less. (Could have had a smidgin of pumpkin pie). Now you can give up Weightwatchers."

Good advice. For someone who's normal.
I don't know who Michael Winner is, and it's obvious he doesn't know me.
I cannot have a smidgin of pumpkin pie.
I cannot have a spoonful of ice cream.
I cannot have three potato chips, or five peanuts.
And I cannot have a couple of sips of beer.
I wish I could, but I can't.


I don't have self control.
I am taking BABY STEPS right now to LEARN IT.

I am like an alcoholic.
There is the alcoholic who says "I can have one beer."
He'd say, "One beer won't hurt."
But it did.
And it does.

And so it goes.
For me.


I had another good day yesterday.
My husband took my sons to Indiana to visit Grampa and Gramma.
I stayed home with the dogs and watched several Andy Hardy movies on Turner Classic TV.
(It was incredibly FUN!)

Today I have much housework to do before the guys get home.
But I feel postive, and hopeful, and confident.
(shaky confident!)

I will not even eat a smidgen of that pumpkin pie.
I can't.

I love pumpkin pie.

Ok.
Here it is the day after Thanksgiving, and I'm doing ok on the diet thing.
(whew!)
I ate with my family yesterday, I DID have turkey and some of the other stuff...but not very much.
And I passed up the pumpkin pie completely.

Did I mention that I love pumpkin pie?

Dammit, I HATE having to use self control!
It's just not my strong suit.
Especially when I'm sitting near my two sons who basically SHOVEL their food in by the truckload...and neither of them has an OUNCE of fat on them.


But that is THEM, it's not me.
(sigh)

They are not 40-plus pounds overweight.
They are not 53 going on 54 years old.
They are not wearing clothes that are getting tight on them.
They are not facing my Weight Watchers instructor next Thursday evening.

And so, my little adventure continues here.
Onward and Upward.
And hopefully, DOWNWARD.


I love pumpkin pie.

Stitches


Now I know why people have stomach surgery to lose weight.

It's a sure thing.

You WILL lose buckets of weight.

And you'll lose it quickly.

And you won't be hungry.

I am not losing weight.

I am hungry.

And I'm depressed.

I'm mad at myself.


I have three good days, and then two horrible days.

All of the progress I made during those three good days has been wiped out.

Failure.

Again and again.

Forever again.

What is the matter with me.

Why can't I beat this devil inside.

What's eating me?

What makes me eat?

I feel horrible.

Three Good Days, One Bad.

Ok.
So I had a fantastic weekend.
In terms of my diet and self control.
It wasn't a FUN weekend.
But it was a disciplined weekend.

I stayed on my Weight Watchers program religiously.
I ate good food, and counted all the points.
I exercised on my "dreadmill" for 40 minutes Saturday and Sunday.

But ...
last night I didn't sleep much and today I had a bad day at work and so I came home and I ate too much.

Why did I do that?

I'm going to get on the treadmill right now.
Try to make amends for my "sins."
And then start brand new tomorrow.

As Emerson said..."Finish each day and be done with it. You've done what you could. No doubt some mistakes and absurdities crept in. Forget them quickly. Tomorrow is a new day. Strive to be happy."

I'm striving, Ralph.
I'm striving.

Weight for me!

How did it ever come to this.

(Looking back, I guess I know.)

Life does it to you.
Grief does it to you.
Even happiness does it to you.

Having children DEFINITELY does it to you.
(So does getting up for work at 2:30 in the morning.
Every morning.
And living out of step with the rest of society.)
Exhaustion can do it to you.


But in the end…I really did it to myself.

I'm a victim of my own pathetic self indulgence.

God, I HATE having no one to blame but myself!


It’s not something that’s as serious as war, child abuse, poverty, or a death in the family.
I know that.

But it is something that bothers me.
And it bothers me every day.
And it has bothered me for a long time.

I am overweight.
Really overweight.
And have been for a long time.

I feel ugly.
And sad.
And ridiculous.
And out of control.

It’s not dignified.
It’s abusive.
It’s sick.

It’s an insult to God.
And to myself.


There are so many things I would like to change about the world we live in.
And yet…I have been unable to make this one, small change in myself.
What’s the matter with me?


But maybe there is still hope.
Maybe there is still time, and there is still the drive in me to make this change.

And then maybe I can move on to making other changes.

More important changes.

Maybe there's hope.

Today, I am going to make a new start.
And I am going to try to drop that 40 (plus) pounds, and become the fittest 53 year old woman I know.

Maybe there's hope.

Uh oh.
I’m reminded of what Yoda said.
“There is no try. There is only do.”

Yoda…here’s to you.