Facing the cold, hard, truth about my weight and eating…sure is hard to swallow

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“If hunger is not the problem, then eating is not the solution”~Author Unknown

44%.

Forty Four percent.

4o + 4 = 44.  Percent.

No matter how you write it. It looks the same and it’s just as hard to read as well as hear.

My body fat percentage is 44 % and I am ashamed, shocked, saddened, overwhelmed, nauseous and stupified. No wonder I’m so tired. No wonder I’m so hungry all the time, just keeping this body in motion is hard work. I weigh 251 pounds. I’m five foot 9 inches tall and I am built like value size Refrigerator Perry.

And that’s the cold, hard, truth. I have manifested into what I always thought I was, even when I wasn’t. I have become the eating, living, breathing, version of my own visualization.

Today I went in for my first “resting” Metabolic testing at the gym. I had signed up for a new group that formed for people wanting to work together to lose weight in a healthy way. I found out that I burn 1,480 calories a day just sitting on my rearend. So that is our magic number to work with regarding calories for the day.  I’ve never counted calories before except on Weight Watchers and then it was based on a number system that counted points and it was pretty easy. But counting every individual morsel of food and adding it up to keep under 1,480 is going to be a challenge. Because sometimes I am eating and I don’t even realize it.

Sometimes after a conversation with my mother, who means well, but really can push my buttons, I find myself  walking around with a mouthful of crackers and feelings as soon as I hang up the phone, so I’m going to need to pay extra attention to what I’m doing from now on and record it all for posterity.  

I have unfortunately found the beginning of all diets, regimens and workouts, “easy” its the second week or so that I lose interest or begin to believe that philosophy of “I yam what I yam” when I am channeling my inner Popeye to soothe my wounded pride.

It’s hard for me to keep up change. I’m all for jumping in, painting a room, changing my hair color, I’m pretty spontaneous at spending a buck now and then too, but keeping up a routine, for myself. I find it hard. I am really good at making everyone else get up in the morning, shower and off to school but for me to make my initial bed rise is hard sometimes, the only thing that keeps me up is knowing that once the house is cleared I’ll have a few moments to myself to gather my thoughts at the kitchen table in the hushed calm of an empty house.

So for me to accept a plan with Carol, my health guide at the gym, the spontaneity of signing up, is definitely me, but the rigors of self change and adaptation to counting every calorie and committing to exercising on a schedule is going to take dedication I have been denying myself for too long.

And as a curious person, I am intrigued and excited by it.

I got my workbook today and it speaks about goals. What I want for my goals regarding weight and my “vision” of what this will do for me, what I can accomplish having a healthier body.

I thought about it alot over the past few days, what my reasons for losing weight and getting healthier would be…There are always the obvious things, like; being able to let my husband see me naked in the light of day without running behind the curtains, sleeping all night on my side without my hip going numb, fitting in a movie theater seat without displacing my 5 dollar coke and sweating bullets when the booth is so tight at restaurants that my boobs are actually parked next to the salt and pepper shakers.

But there are more subtle things that take up too much of my time with worry, things that are not often, but affect me and the life with my family. For example; I would like to not have to panic when we go to the amusement park. I would like to be able to know that after a 3o minute wait on inclined concrete with my kids that I will actually FIT into the roller coaster or Scooby Doo ride without the bar giving me indigestion or cracking a rib. I would like to walk the golf course I live on without the use of a golf cart and a defibrulator. I would like to get up and down from the floor without having to roll around like a turtle on its back for momentum after my daughter and I play a game and I’d like to look in the mirror after my shower and know that i’m okay with my reflection. That even though it isn’t a  young body, it’s a healthy body and I’m doing it justice by keeping it in fairly good shape. I want to know that although I may not have the newest car on the block, I am keeping it running smoothly even if the bumper is a bit saggy and it has a few hundred thousand miles on it.

So it was hard to hear that high fat ratio number. I still hear it. In fact, all the way home I muttered it under my breath hoping that if I said it enough, I would eventually get over it. But when I saw Carol write down the numbers and then my BMI (body mass index) was a 41, I knew I was definitely in for a workout to get this body in shape and get my health back. 

When we filled out the paperwork, my first instinct was to declare some impossible goal; “I want to be seventeen again.”

 But I resisted the urge and simply put down that I want to be “under” 200 pounds. 199 would be my goal. A whole new area of the store would be open to me and I just might end up being able to go off my blood pressure meds, wear a bathing suit without it looking like a circus tent and have the stamina to complete a hike in the woods with my kids without needing to be air lifted out.

So I am working on it.

Step #1: I showed up. I am here.

I am wearing my pedometer on my jeans pocket and looking towards that day when I can get naked and not run for cover, fit in a thrill ride and pull that bar tight and exhale in front of the mirror and know that I yam what I yam, because I’m doing all I can.

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About margie rigney

I'm a woman with too much to say to keep it to myself. Stop by for a virtual coffee break with me and refill your cup. Life is too short to worry too much and take it too seriously. Sometimes you just gotta laugh, even when it hurts.

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