Last week I went to the mall with my teenage daughter. She needed a dress for an upcoming event. Neither one of us really enjoys clothes shopping, she’s much happier in jeans and shorts — things she can find at Old Navy. As for myself, I might enjoy clothes shopping except for the fact that I am Fat. According to the BMI chart, obese. Shopping for clothes in the Plus Sizes is just depressing to me.
So, as I was loitering with several other mothers who were waiting for their daughters in the dressing room, I caught a glimpse of myself in the 3-way mirror. Oh.My.God! I was horrified. Any of you out there who are battling weight problems can relate. I avoid looking at myself in the mirror. I check my makeup, sure. But a full-length mirror – no way.
I’ve been attending Weight Watchers meetings since November of last year. Just got my 16-week charm, but I’ve only lost 16 pounds. Yeah, yeah, slow and steady… but honestly, I’ve been just half-assing the program. I know what I’m supposed to do, I have all the knowledge and the tools. But to paraphrase Nike, “I Just Don’t Do It.”
What the heck is wrong with me? I am unhappy with my weight, my appearance, my stamina. My weight contributes to my health problems: hyptertension, high cholestrol, depression. (Do I eat because I’m depressed or am I depressed because I’m fat? Who knows?)
So, as I felt like Jabba the Hut loitering in Macy’s, I decided to get mad and do something about it.
When I was growing up and even through college, I considered myself an athelete. I ran, swam, played softball. I lettered in Track & Field in high school and played on the champioship intramural softball team 2 years in a row at the University of Georgia. I was a stubborn kid, grew up into a determined adult. Used to be when someone would tell me I couldn’t do something, I would put all my efforts into proving them wrong. So what happened to me??
Stress, Kids, Spouse, Stress, Work, Money, Stress, Aging, Responsibilities, Stress
Well, you get the picture.
Over the past week, since my Jabba the Hut encounter, I’ve been thinking a lot about reviving the old me — the stubborn, determined me. The Warrior Babe inside of me is ready to emerge and kick some butt (check out Chrisopher Moore’s “The Stupidest Angel”). And to help keep me on track, I decided to do a blog. Put my triumphs and struggles out there. Chronicle my transformation from fattie to fabulous. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry you’ll feel like a kid again (oh wait, that’s “Cat’s). I hope that you are inspired to join me, or are at least entertained.