Hold Me While I'm Naked

Now that I've achieved my moving goal for 2006 (and bloody damn glad I knocked it out of the way early in the year) I need to start focusing again on getting my life back the way it was, regaining some lost control and knuckling down on all the little so-called life improvement projects I had drawn up back in January before everything went to heck. Not to say that it hasn't been a right pleasurable month or so of acclimating to my new space by not stressing out more than necessary and just taking a minor mental and physical sabbatical from my typical routine. But things must return to proper order sooner or later, and I prefer to get the jump on it Sooner because if there is one thing I can't stand it's having to worry about Later. Plus I need to find a way to get my mind off of Tom in the hospital, whose prognosis hasn't changed from last I heard.

I think my next step is to get back to working on the body once more, as my diet has been in the proverbial toilet since I moved having not had the time to count points nor the dinero to shell out for decent meals. It's been both a blessing and a curse to have a grocery store directly across the street for me to walk to every day, but I'm sad to say that as a result I've been eating willy-nilly and haven't been to WW in three weeks, mostly because I'm horrified to get weighed in and see just how much I've packed on over the last month since I moved. The thing about losing weight for so long is that when you put on anything, even a mere 5 pounds, you can feel it on every square inch of your body, and I'm more than certain I've packed on considerably more than 5 pounds as I am sitting here right now with the waistline of my blue jeans cutting a nice red equator into my gut. And these babies used to absolutely haaaang offa my fat ass. Makes me a little sad, because less than two months ago I was a mere 15 pounds away from my goal and now Jeebus knows where I am now and I'm too chickenshit to find out. I just need to get past the initial hurdle of the dreaded First Week where I need to put myself back in the mindframe and structure that I had been in to get the ball rolling again. It helps that I'm getting Joe to come walking with me every morning, and we're both pretty excited about our community pool (just over the fence of our back yard) opening up this summer. Joe wants to get back in shape to play basketball again but he has a tricky knee that he needs to work out first and I think walking followed by some swimming exercises will strengthen him up to regain some of that agility without putting too much pressure on the joint.

On top of all this I need to make another appointment with my doc to get the wheels in motion for my breast reduction surgery, something else I'd like to accomplish this year if at all possible. It's been almost a year since I consulted with the surgeon and technically that's about what it requires for me to qualify to get my insurance to agree. Not to mention me having lost 140 pounds over the last 3 years. Cripes, what else do they want me to do? I'm running out of flaming hoops to jump through here.

But you know, over the past year or so I've come to the startling realization that, despite my obvious flaws, I'm pretty happy with my self image these days. No, I'm certainly not the most beautiful creature, but I've come to terms with that ages ago and like any of us I just try to make the best with what I have. And although shedding weight over the years has vastly improved my health its taken its toll on me aesthetically, with my entire body from the neck down a wretched bag of loose skin, stretch marks, and boobs down to the ankles. But you know, I'm actually fine with that. Boobs, feh. All I care about is taking weight off my chest so I can sleep a full night without having to toss them over my shoulder ever time I roll over. Believe me sisters, when you've been a D+ cup since you were 13 years old the novelty wears off pretty darn fast. And as for the rest of my body in this stage of my life I'll take function over form whenever I can get it. I may not turn gentlemen's heads, but I betcha I can outrun them with my admittedly impressive new thigh muscles most days o' the week. And can I get a holla for going from 18mgs of Avandia a day to a puny 4 in less than 2 years? I think I haven't done myself too shabby.

The reason why I'm posting all this unnecessary and, er, rather graphic information is because I need a tangible marking point to get started again, as well as more than a little self-encouragement. Getting back on track may be an ounce of prevention, but anyone who's tried to do it knows it takes more than an ounce of determination. Wish me luck.

Now if you'll excuse me, I think my steamed broccoli breakfast is about ready.