I used to write about my fitness efforts fairly frequently. Not so much to brag (though I'm sure lurking not too far 'neath the surface was a certain amount of pride/vanity), but mostly to keep myself accountable. And poke fun at myself. Plus it was seemingly solid blog-fodder.
I've drifted away from both. And I feel it - both physically and mentally. So...I begin again. And maybe I'll stick to it a bit better this time. Or for a little while, anyway. It's sort of a half-century birthday present to myself. (Only it's not quite as fun as my new (to me) Nissan Rogue. But it also doesn't come with a car payment, nor does it require insurance.)
In early 2017, I actually made some headway. I was running 3 days a week and I'd gotten my weight down to 147 (which is still 12 lbs over my goal/ideal, but it was measurable progress.) And then...the crud felled me. Whatever nasty, alien funk it was (started as pink-eye, which I'd never had before, migrated down into my chest, then back up, winding up as an ear infection -- which I've also not had since I was a little kid), it had some serious staying power. And so, by the time I finally felt human again (8 weeks later), I had lost the running habit and motivation. Sloth is such a wicked temptress.
I made a couple half-hearted attempts after that - mostly just trying to "get my steps in." (Have I mentioned I have a snazzy new(ish) Fitbit Alta? Thank you, David!) Even that wasn't much of an effort, though - I lowered my daily "bar" to 8,000 steps. Which isn't sedentary. But doesn't come near to qualifying as active. Especially when I wasn't even hitting that most days.
Oh, and I started tracking my food intake again with "My Fitness Pal." (I do love gadgets and apps!) Trouble with that is it's easy to get lazy with it, too. So, like, on a "bad" day, if I knew I was going to blow past my 1200 calorie limit, I'd just stop recording so I wouldn't have to face the angry red negative numbers on my screen.
That's the key to anything like this, of course. You have to have accountability. You have to truly commit. You can't just half-ass it. (Not that I would mind shrinking the size of mine by about half - more on that in a moment.) So I'm going to write about it. Even if no one else reads it (because this is just a little speck of a blog on the internet unlike my other writing gig - but I'm a little freer to let my hair -- and flab -- down here.)
So, what does knockin-on-fifty's-door look like? Setting aside the more visible wrinkles and such, it looks like a muffin-top, jiggly thighs, an outsized rear, and legs and arms utterly lacking in definition. None of it pretty. And a bit hard to swallow (ha! the irony!) for a girl who used to be "the skinny one," even if I did always have not-so-skinny hips. (As an aside: I do understand gravity, but why, if I have to be disproportionate, must I be bottom-heavy, rather than top-heavy?!)
I do realize that weight isn't everything when it comes to tracking fitness -- pants fitting better and pant sizes trending downward is truly the better measure for me -- but it's one of the easiest things to track. So I figured it was time to get a new-and-improved high-tech scale. (Again with the gadgets!) This one syncs with my phone app (Weight Gurus) and measures BMI, water weight, and a few other things besides just lbs, but mostly I like it because it lights up and is easier for my also-old eyes to read.
I got my new handy-dandy scale Monday night and, once I figured out how to get it synced with my phone, weighed in at 166.2 lbs. That's a lot. Considering the fact that I got down to 117 when at the peak of my training days. Which, by the way, was too skinny, I readily admit. As noted above, my goal weight is 135. So, that means subtracting 30ish pounds. Not 5 or 10 -- 30. Ugh!
Perhaps in an effort to encourage me, my new scale did cheer me up the next morning with a weigh-in of 162.7. (Behold the benefit of early morning weigh-ins!) And, by Friday morning, I was down to 161.8. I haven't weighed myself this weekend -- and doubt I'd like what it says anyway because I've not been eating all that healthily. (What? I had a wedding to go to. And stuff.)
To my credit, I've been meeting my 8,000 steps-per-day goal with my Fitbit since April 1st (with 3 days' exception -- all of which I made up for the following day -- except I still need to make up Friday today. I need to get out and get walking as soon as I finish this!) I've also made it back to the "Y" several times for a run on the treadmill. Still working on making that routine/habit. Can only do a mile at a time at this point, and a 12-minute one at that. But I'll keep working on that. My sister and I have tentatively discussed running a half-marathon in the fall. I'm not sure about that. It's been 5 or 6 years since my last one and my knees aren't holding up all that great. But I'm not ruling it out either. My brother just ran one and he just turned 60 -- he's no slacker!
I'm early in my journey, so aside from the arguably promising direction the numbers on the scale are trending, the results aren't really visible yet. Nothing reinforced that more than my adventures in trying on dresses to wear to my co-worker's wedding yesterday. It was a black-tie event, so I felt like I needed something a little more formal than what I had on hand (that fits.)
So yesterday morning, I headed off to Macy's -- they're having a 30% off sale for cardmembers! And they had a HUGE dress selection. (Huge as in quantity, not dress-size.) I grabbed 6 to start with -- all size 12's. They all fit, but the more form-fitting ones emphasized my fat belly and rear far too much for my tastes. There was one that was absolutely gorgeous -- cap sleeves, fitted bodice, pleated skirt.
I loved the fit until I turned sideways and learned a harsh truth:
It looked like I had an unfortunate bustle in my hedgerow. So to speak. I finally settled on a less-pleaty, more form-fitting Calvin Klein:
And because it was more form-fitting, I decided I needed a body shaper of some sort. I tried a couple of high-waisted contraptions - size Large. One of them I couldn't even pull up over my hips/butt. And all I could think as I wriggled and wrestled with it was how grateful I was that I hadn't gone shopping with one of my sisters or friends. Because they'd have been laughing mercilessly at me, I've no doubt. And maybe snapping a blackmail photo. Hey, listen, I get it -- I'm no longer the petite young thang I once was. But if that thing was a "Large," it was maybe for a large toddler. And I don't think toddlers should be wearing body shapers.
I finally settled on a body-suit body shaper of some sort. It did help -- I didn't look lumpy in my dress. But I still looked to be about 5-6 months pregnant. Which I'm not and haven't been for over 16 years.
I've got a long way to go. But I'm hopeful confessing my slacktastic ways here will help with that.
