I feel like I mention my weight too much and in spite of how much I want to lose weight, and even for the right reasons, I sometimes feel silly and vain for even worrying about my mostly healthy body and my size. So, you are welcome to stop reading now and go straight to the comment form to tell me to get a grip and stop complaining. Well, I tell myself that every day, but today I’m not. I’m letting it out.
My body changed dramatically 16 years ago as a result of my third pregnancy. That is me just before the birth. I don’t mention that much because I don’t want third child to feel weird about how hard it was to get him into the world. Thus it is though. In my first two pregnancies, I gained about 30 pounds, and lost it immediately. With the third, I gained 100 and came home from the hospital exactly 6 pounds lighter. He was a 9 1/2 pound kid, so go figure. It was a really difficult pregnancy. My body slowed down, I developed some chronic problems that are still with me, and I can date my permanent weight gain to that pregnancy. Everything was different, from my hair to my feet. So, it wasn’t just weight that was a concern, it was my overall health.
Before and since that time, I’ve always been active. While I do love to eat, I’ve always been a reasonably healthy eater–I do like my treats, but they have always been balanced by lots of fruit, veggies and whole grains (Cocoa Puffs say “whole grain goodness” right on the box, by the way). Plus, I didn’t all of a sudden start eating differently when I was pregnant, except for the fact that I always ate better during those times.
So, I’ve never been able to get my weight set-point back down to what it was before 1992. Never. Even while training for marathons. It has been very frustrating. I was 26 at the time and I felt like I suddenly aged beyond my years.(It turns out that I did. I started peri-menopause then. At 26. No hot flashes, but pretty much everything else.) I tell you all this to put in context why someone like me worries about weight. I’m just trying to jump-start my body into doing what it used to do.
Anyway, to make a short story long, here’s the news. I’ve been buying the same size and even the same brands of jeans for a very long time. I know how they fit and it is very predictable. Until now. This past weekend, after months and months of both increased mileage and speed in my running, (I’m up to 30 miles a week!) weight training, and trying to show at least a little restraint in my food choices (cocoa puffs with skim milk, for example), I got to do something that I thought I’d never do again:
Believe me, at this point in my life, I’m not trying to lose the whole 50-60 pounds or get back to the days of 1991. I just want to feel more like myself. I really, really do just want to be healthy, and the belly fat, varicose veins and slightly rising blood pressure tell me that I can make some improvements in that area. Apparently, this will be a slower road for me than for others owing to the fact that months of increased effort and lifestyle change has yielded no weight loss, but my fear has always been that I’m stuck this way for good. This little glimmer of change makes me think maybe my body is still cable of movement and development. And woohoo friends, if I get a new pair of jeans out it, then yay for me!
My Red Door Days 