It was about ten years ago that I was a fattie. No, not chunky, fat as in obese. It is no coincidence that life was out of control and upside down. Today I weigh less than I did in the 1980’s and have totally changed the foods that I eat. It was the steroids, chemo, and a severe personal crisis that pushed me into the upper realms of weightdom. It is redoing my life from top to bottom–or bottom to top, whichever is more correct–coupled with patience and determination that has brought me to today.
I was within ten pounds of my goal weight and fifteen away from the doctor’s goal weight for me when I stopped smoking. That first week I gobbled up two or three pounds of chocolate along with any other food within reach. Then, a stomach problem literally stopped all that. I could barely eat and was in the depths of a Chantix spell which brought out the dark side. Luckily, my doctor gave me medicine which soothed the turbulence and it was back to eating again. It was almost impossible to pass up my favorite fast food joints. Back in the 1990’s, I had learned that life is possible and can even be pleasant without french fries and doughnuts. Recently, they didn’t make a french fry that I could resist.
With the Chantix trance broken, the resistance has returned. It doesn’t always work, but the impulsive buying portion seems to be fading away. Good riddance. Life is back on track and still there are no cigarettes in my future. Today, was my first visit to the grocery store since about mid or early June and it was a test. Would I walk out of there with Breyer’s ice cream choked full of chocolate, bags of candies, or primarily healthy food? It is with great relief that I can say that I did well. The basket held broccoli, cucumbers, and every summer vegetable that was on sale. There was fruit, milk, and cheese with one loaf of bread and, yes, one box of fruit smoothies on a stick. They are Weight Watchers and so low-calorie that I can deal with it easily. It’s too warm not to have something cool and sweet.
The biggest change is that there will now be an exercise routine added to the weight loss program. I really, honestly hate to exercise and am not necessarily thrilled at the idea of working out, but I joined a gym and that monthly fee will have to be paid for in sweat and lifts. What worries me is that this particular gym has a few ringers that are truly fit; the trick is they are in their eighties. It’s just painful to see someone make a fool of themselves at that age. This all begins the next week. Oh, well, it’s four hours a week which is only .02 percent of a week’s time. How bad can it hurt?