My body and I have not had a good relationship. It’s a story of rage and betrayal on both of our parts, that starts way back in my gene pool. The side of my family that doesn’t tend toward obesity packs it’s own wallop in the form of allergies, deadly food intolerance’s and a fun auto-immune thyroid disorder. So much fun to be had! I was aware at six years of age.. maybe five, that my body was not OK. Looking back at pictures, I realize that I was a normal if roundish kid. I thought I was fat. But then my body betrayed me with the thyroid thingy and swelling joints at age twelve… so I hit back at age sixteen with a pack of Camel Filters a day, and the beginnings of the rounds with problem drinking. My early twenties introduced lactose intolerance and very brutal joint pain that got diagnosed as rheumatoid arthritis. My answer to that? An abusive husband and a bevy of illegal substances culminating in the ultimate love/hate affair I had for a little over four years with crystal meth. I was one of the very few overweight meth-heads that I knew. So yeah… yay me.
Today everything in my life is different. The foulest substance I put in my body is Diet Dr. Pepper, and I have great joy in my family life with a (new) husband who loves and respects me, three young girls, an active faith, fun friends, good home….
Everything is different except for this body of mine, and the separateness that I feel from it. We have not been friends, and at age thirty eight… it shows. And I think that this state of affairs is a crying shame, because, other than not feeling physically comfortable in my own skin, I feel comfortable in my ME-ness for the first time in my life. It has come time for me to take better care of this body, and I finally think that I am ready to make that peace.
So here are my stats…
I weighed in on September fourth at an astounding 290… almost five pounds more than what I weighed when I delivered my first baby five and a half years ago.
As of November 16th, I weigh 269… for those who don’t care for the math, that’s 21 pounds down, and a hundred twenty pounds to go. Or I can also look at it as a mere eight pounds away from my 10% mark in Weight Watchers. Or nineteen pounds from the goal I have set for myself to join the local Bobby Lawrence Academy. Or forty nine pounds till I am thinner than my sweet husband has ever seen me.
While these numbers make me cringe, they are just numbers. Numbers that reflect only a part of me (granted, the larger part heh heh!), and they are just a tool for monitoring my overall progress. Another tool that I use is the feeling of satisfaction in looking aback at my day of eating whole grains and fresh fruits and veggies… a day of thoughtful consumption and careful monitoring. Another tool is the growing strength in my muscles from brisk walking and slow jogging (I lovingly call it “slogging”) four to six times a week for an hour. Another tool is my clothing getting looser, and then put away. Another tool is the beginnings of a truce between my body and I.
But numbers are not my only goals. On December 1st I will be participating in my first ever 5K. Walking it mostly…. but my goal is to do another 5k in the spring and I will be running that sucker! This body and I are GOING places I tell you! This body and I are on our way to being friends.
Every step I run just blows my mind, I am grateful for this body.