Monday, June 5, 2017

The Long Battle

If you've ever studied history, watched the evening news or listened to grandpa tell stories, you know that wars can last a long time. It can take decades to win the battle. It's an ongoing fight that has its shares of ups and downs, wins and losses. Sometimes it can be years before you can safely wave that flag and proclaim victory.

It's the same thing with a diet. Here I am almost a year later, still counting grapes and measuring oats and throwing out perfectly good birthday cake. Here I am - still craving nachos, cheesecake and whatever special two-tiered gooey-sauced sandwich that McD's is bragging about on their marquee.
Here I am- still suffering from back fat, arm wings as big as a condor and that darn waist Python that refuses to be tucked in, sucked in or disguised.

And yet, every single day I wake up and imagine my meals for the day. They are modest. Low calorie. Bird-like and sensible. I tell myself if I follow the plan I can wear that great striped tunic in my closet, something other than three-quarter sleeves in 95degree weather, and look at myself in the mirror when I exit the shower.
But somewhere along the way, I am ambushed. The war is in the other court. Food takes the advantage. I'm faced with bullets of baked goods, shrapnel of spaghetti, mine fields of  marshmallow, mayonnaise, mini donuts, Mac and cheese and malts. They hit me so darn hard. Even my extra gut can't deflect the incoming assaults. I feel like sitting in my fox hole -eat that candy bar and taco -and just surrender.

But, we can't. You know we can't. Nothing hard is ever easy. Hmmm...did I say that right? Nothing worth doing is ever done in vain. Or something like that. Our health, our happiness, our self esteem- our future- depends on us fighting this fight with all the gusto and strength and willpower that we can muster!
We can imagine the end. We can dream. But we must take it one day at a time. Be our best. Do what we know is right.
Someday we can raise that flag and everyone will cheer when they see the arm wings  have melted, that nasty waist Python has disappeared, the triple ripple neck has returned to a single entity and we no longer need a zip code for our butt! Yay for that day!

So, I stopped in today to say-I'm always fighting- and you must, too. The battle is long and hard and never quite fair. But it will be worth it.
Get out of that fox hole and give it all you've got!

Wednesday, March 2, 2016

Big Giant Book Of Excuses

I guess some things never change...It seems I'm about as consistent with my blogging as I am with my diet. Good intentions and the best laid plans are nothing without following through. Somehow that straight and narrow path to the single digit sizes suddenly got steep, curvy, dangerous, and crazy.
I've lost nothing but my way.

I've pulled out my Big Giant Book Of Excuses today. It's heavier than I am! I've cracked it open to The Seasons, of which I do believe is a proper excuse for not following a diet. Just crawling out of a long winter makes a bear hungry and angry - of which I am both, although I can never explain the angry part. Just take my word for it.

Then I flip my book over to Celebrations. Excuse # 2912. I had a wedding to attend. And it encompassed dinners and breakfasts and cake and snacks and fast food and all manner of non healthy treats that cause a sort of diet amnesia. Frankly, it's been four days since the wedding and I still have a bit of brain fog. It's causing me to steer way too close to pancakes and pizza.

Of course, there's always that final, lingering excuse. The big one you try to tell yourself everyday of your big obese life. It's found under, Who Cares? I've been arguing with my sensible self that it doesn't matter. I wasn't meant to be thin. Or I'm not that fat. Or I'll do it later, next month, or whenever my body is ready.

Of all the millions of excuses in the book, that is the most dangerous. Because it does matter. You are worth it. So many people really do care because it's not just your physical being that is involved here, but also your health, your spirit and your attitude. Those that love you do care even though they may not be there to cheer while you're on the treadmill or scramble your eggs for you. They may not hang around to point out your mistakes, count your calories for you or hold your hand during weigh in. But they care. They truly do. They want you to fly!

So, I know it's difficult to follow someone who doesn't know where they are going. But, actually, I do know where I'm going.
I'm just kinda lost now, but I have a goal. I know what's beyond the forest of excuses. I know what awaits me down the highway of temptation and the path of fear. I know what it takes to get there.

Put away the excuses.

The journey is never how you dream it, but the destination will be. Remember that.

Friday, February 12, 2016

It Was the Elf

Sorry I haven't written in awhile. So let's just put it right out there- I'm having a slight feeling of guilt in preaching what I've not been strictly practicing.
Me telling you to keep focused, to avoid unhealthy choices and to suck it up is like a plastic surgeon with a gigantic schnoz telling you you need a nose job...or a bleached blond with fake nails and obvious silicone boobs telling you to "stay real".
I can't lie to you. I'm not visiting the Dairy Queen or Pizza Hut on a regular basis, but I have indulged in a few things that Fitness Pal would unfriend me for.
I've tried blaming it on the weather ...cold = comfort food, PMS ( but I'm almost 60), and a little Keebler Elf that practically held me hostage in his cookie tree. But, hey- like the blond said -"let's be real".
I'm weak.
However that doesn't mean I'm done. It just means I'm going to have to take another route around the cheese aisle in the grocery store, drive three miles out of my way to avoid McDonalds, and tell the next well-meaning friend who offers me cheesecake to shove it.
Seriously, it was the chili with crackers and cheese that sabotaged my good efforts last week. A Super Bowl splurge...Even though I have no interest whatsoever in a silly football game.

And Sunday is Valentines Day...oh, Lordy!

But, hey, I'm prepared to bypass a Whitman Sampler in order to show that cockeyed bathroom scale who's who! And in addition to just needing so badly to prove to myself I can do this, I've already bought a dress for a wedding coming up in two weeks. There's no room in that tight belly pouch for Cadbury eggs, bonbons or person pan pizzas. Not even with double duty Spanx and a Saran Wrap home sauna...
So, ( as my husband says when he's trying to be cool or funny)- I think you're picking up what I'm laying down...
It's a struggle. But once you've eaten that cookie, you do know it's okay to run down, stalk and strangle that little elf, don't you?
Very well. Now, let's carry on.