I'm just your average, everyday, divorced 38 year old girl -- overweight, tragically unhip,
and trying to make a life for myself. I live with two furry beasts, Dave and Abby, whose
feline mission in life is to choke me with their fur. Nothing special.
Friday (late) night. Nothing special to report, just another really good day of eating properly and taking care of myself. Nothing special. Amazing how quickly you can become accustomed to doing the right thing and how little I'm interested in straying from my plan. This feels so good.
My celebration for today is my relationship with my mother. In the past, we've had sort of a rocky go of things. We are not terribly similar, and I suppose every mother and daughter goes through some period of awkwardness, so it's not terribly unusual, but it was still something that nagged at me, because I knew that I should fix it but just couldn't figure out how. Today, we have a wonderful relationship, not so much a maternal relationship as a great friendship with someone I respect completely. We don't let a day pass without at least a short conversation, just to see how the other's day is going and to say "I love you". It feels so good to know that, now, if something awful were to happen, there would be no regrets for either of us. That is, truly, a gift from God, for which I am very grateful.
Oh yeah, by the way, I weigh less than 250 pounds. For the first time in about six months. I casually stepped on the scales this morning, hoping to see something like 255 or 256 and just about fell over when the scale showed "249.2" - wow! I'm still not using the scale to motivate myself and it still, honestly, is about my health, but it sure doesn't hurt to see that I'm doing something right.
Thursday evening. Well, lunch went both better than I'd expected and not as well as I'd hoped. We weren't able to go to Sammy's, where I already knew what I could have and stay within my calorie limit, so we ended up at Trophy's Sports Cafe, where the low cal offerings are pretty sparse. I ordered a green salad with nonfat Ranch (bleah!) on the side, but I ate the croutons, and a 12" veggie pizza with lowfat cheese, but I ate seven of eight pieces. That's the not as well as I'd hoped part. The better than I'd expected part was that I still tried to make better choices and I did a lot better than I would have even a few weeks ago, when a setback like not being able to go to Sammy's would have given me "permission" to eat whatever I wanted at Trophy's because "there's no point in even trying now". Overall, I'm giving myself a B- for the meal. (Incidentally, I had the worst upset stomach after lunch, which makes me wonder about whether or not the cheese was really lowfat because something must have had major amounts of fat in it somewhere. Hmmm.)
Work is a whirlwind of meetings and email. I feel so non-productive and, truly, my unholy tendency toward procrastination does not help in this matter. In my first formal one on one meeting with my new boss/former peer, she mentioned this, along with a couple of my other less than positive qualities, and gave me some suggestions to help. I definitely feel a lot more motivated and energized to take care of things than I have in a long time. Note that this does not extend to cleaning the house.
In sort of a blah-ish mood, so I'll close. I think I need some sleep. I've been up late chatting with a new friend for the last week, and I think it's catching up to me. Sleep is good, especially when your mind is blissfully still and content.
Wednesday night. The title of this post refers to my recognition of the fact that I've not been posting as regularly as I normally do, not of my progress on the Ten Percent Challenge, which is going along swimmingly.
So far, since Saturday, I've been able to eat on plan every meal, drink 96 ounces of water, and get a 20 minute workout in three of five days. I'm honestly pretty proud of myself and just a little scared. I've got a business lunch tomorrow afternoon and I can't ditch it because I'm the highest ranking person going, so I am, in effect, the host. I don't know where we're going and I'm going to try to steer it toward a restaurant that I know has "safe" entrees. I'll also up my exercise tomorrow to 45 minutes to try to offset any extra food that might, accidentally, make it into my mouth. We shall see how it goes.
In the meantime, my celebration for today is the fact that I feel really good about myself, just as I am right now. This is nothing short of a miracle for me, as I've spent most of my life hating my body and putting myself down on every front. It's a strange feeling to think good things about myself, to accept compliments gracefully instead of deflecting them, and to look in the mirror without picking apart what I see. Strange, but good. I think I could get used to this.
I don't ordinarily talk about politics here, for a variety of reasons, and I'm not going to start now. I am, however, going to pause for a brief moment to remember a man who played an enormous part in my formative years.
I was 13 years old in January of 1981, growing up in Orange County, California. It was a fairly idyllic childhood, looking back now, and I'm so grateful for the opportunity it provided to explore and grow while always knowing that I was safe and very much loved.
I remember, vividly, as though it were only yesterday, sitting in the library with my classmates and watching the inauguration of President Reagan. So many in the media and in government predicted nuclear halocaust under this new president, claiming that he would bring about our destruction. I, of course, knew nothing of such things. I was a young girl, new to the idea that boys weren't such a bad thing (if you could find the right one), and looking forward to my high school years. In the following eight years, our country, and the world, would change dramatically under the watch of this man.
Many of you reading this today are probably too young to remember what it was like to be scared that the Soviet Union was going to launch a nuclear missile at Great Britain or at the United States. Heck, you're probably too young to even remember the Soviet Union as anything other than an entry in the history books. I'm certain that you don't remember what it felt like, night after night, to listen to Walter Cronkite intone the number of days American hostages had been held in Iran by militants. I do. I remember that so very clearly and I remember the pain that I felt, as a young girl, as I watched our country do nothing to help them. America was supposed to be invincible, the President was supposed to keep us all safe, and people everywhere were supposed to have the freedom to live their lives in the manner of their choosing.
I know that many have spoken, in the last few days, of the accomplishments of Ronald Reagan, and I wouldn't be able to do them justice, so I won't try. I will say this, though, that I believe he was a good man, a fair man, and, truly, a man who believed in the greatness and wonder that was, and still is, America. I'm sure that there are many of you out there that are saying to yourselves, "yeah, yeah, that was all an act, he was just as cynical as the rest of them." I respectfully submit that you are wrong.
I had the great honor of meeting the former President in 1989 while I was working for a gubenatorial candidate in California. I was allowed to be part of a small group of people in a conference room at a hotel in Century City who would be able to shake hands and have their pictures taken with President Reagan. He walked into the room, beaming that magnificent smile of his, and immediately lit up the room with his warmth and laughter. He stopped and chatted with each person he was introduced to, making each feel recognized and special.
When he stepped in front of me, the young aide next to him introduced me, explained that I was an intern with the Wilson campaign, and he took my hand. He asked me where I went to school and what I was studying, and I told him, just as though he were one of my parents' friends. Then came the moment I will never forget. He looked me right in the eye and told me that it was young people like me that held the key to America's promise and that I should never forget how lucky I was to live in a country where a young man from a small prairie town with humble beginnings could grow up to become President of the United States. The warmth and sincerity of his manner rendered me speechless, a feat all too rare in my life. [Yes, I really remember his words after all these years. You would, too, I promise.]
Today, though, what I am struck by most about this man is the love that he had for his wife, Nancy. Many have vilified her as some sort of manipulator, bent on using her addled husband to satisfy some sort of warped personal agenda. In my opinion, nothing could be further from the truth. Look at the videos, the pictures, listen to her words - this woman simply adored - and still does - her husband. He was her everything. He was her entire life. To have a love like that, even to merely experience it from afar, shakes you to the core, because you know how deep that feeling is and how hot it burns. Patty Davis, their daughter, said this about her father's final moments: “In his last moment, he taught me that there is nothing stronger than love between two people, two souls...it was the last thing he could do in this world to show my mother how entwined their souls are...and it was everything.” That, my friends, is Love, and Love, truly, is everything.
Sunday evening. Well, more than 24 hours since starting the new and (hopefully) improved Ten Percent Challenge, I'm feeling really good. I've been right on plan, including a 20 minute walk today, and it doesn't feel like the worst thing in the world, either.
Food - I've eaten all of my prepared meals except dinner tonight, which was a foot long turkey sandwich from Subway (no cheese, no mayo, no oil), and that fits into my caloric limit, so it's "legal".
Activity - Nothing yesterday (that will be my one day off) and a 20 minute walk around the neighborhood today. It didn't feel horrible, which is a good thing.
Water - OK, I did 64 ounces yesterday, and I'm on track for 96 ounces today, so I'm feeling pretty darned good. This one will be easier at work where I am constantly drinking water in meetings and at my desk. Besides, my new office is directly in front of the kitchen area where the drinking water dispenser is located. I am feeling a little water logged, but that's the way it always is for the first week of increasing my intake, so I'm not worried.
Today's celebration is that I'm actually doing this - taking care of myself both physically and spiritually. It's funny how much better I feel about myself when I'm eating properly and taking care of myself. Huh, can you imagine that?
As to focusing on the positive changes, I've really been pushing myself lately to acknowledge that it really does feel better, physically, to eat the things that I know are good for me as opposed to junk. Also, today while I was out walking, I felt a little self conscious about being outside walking - which is, to be honest, one of the biggest barriers to getting regular activity, because I'm afraid people will laugh and stare - and, instead of walking faster to "get it over with", I just reminded myself that this was something I was doing for myself, that if people were stupid enough to ridicule taking care of myself that was their problem, and then I just put my head up and strode purposefully along my way.
