I am so sick and tired of feeling sick and tired.
Oh, and fat. I’m tired of being fat. After losing a significant amount of weight six years ago, I’ve gained it all back and more. If you add it up, I’ve gained more weight than all three of my pregnancies combined. Sob.
While I can blame some of it on a legitimate health issue (I was diagnosed with hypothyroidism at 14 and Hashimoto’s a few years ago), my biggest problem by far is me. I am my own worst enemy.
I love to eat. Food is my drug, especially since I quit smoking 7 years ago. I hate to grocery shop. I hate to cook. And although I enjoy being outdoors and being active, it takes a lot of energy to pry myself off the couch.
Over the years I have lost and gained the same pounds again and again. With every birthday, it gets harder and harder to shed the pounds, but they manage to come back so much easier! To add to the frustration, things that worked for me when I was younger don’t work for me any more.
Now that I have both feet pretty solidly in middle age, I have to do really hard things to get the weight off, and it comes off in ounces, not pounds. Hard things are…you know, hard.
Also, menopause can suck it!
All this is to say that it is time for me to stop being a whiney bitch, walk away from the fast food buffet, and get down to it. It’s not just about tight clothes or huffing and puffing my way up the stairs any more.
It’s not about the ever increasing pants sizes or the 4:00pm face plants that are immune to any amount of caffeine (and my daughter works at Starbucks, y’all, so there is no shortage of caffeine around here).
Suddenly it’s about the scary fact that my A1C number is right on the edge, even with medication.
It’s about the fact that metabolic syndrome is now part of my vocabulary, and my doctor has made me painfully aware of the risks associated with it.
It’s about being afraid for the first time in my life that I may not be around to see my grandchildren grow up.
So yeah, I’d say it’s time to get my head out of
my ass the sand and stop putting off the hard things I have to do to get healthy.
Hard things like giving up gluten and dairy and sugar. I don’t know if the devil wears Prada, but I promise she comes bearing milk and cookies.
Hard things like sitting down and doing some meal planning, and then doing the grocery shopping, and then doing the actual cooking.
Hard things like getting up early to move my body, even though here in NC it is still far too warm and humid for a fat girl who sweats when the temps get above 72 (I swear I was meant to be a Canadian).
I know I can do the hard things. I’ve done them before. And I know that my journey won’t be perfect, because let’s face it – I’m still a highly reactive single mom with more issues than National Geographic.
But the rewards are so, so worth it.
Small step by small step, and ounce by ounce, I will find my fit. I have to, because my life depends on it.