So, it's Friday and I've survived one helluva week.
It all began on Tuesday, with the surgery. We haven't really talked about it, not with others, and not with each other much, but it's time. See, this marks a turning point in my life. There will be no more babies. At 42, after four challenging pregnancies that resulted in three premature babies and one still birth, in addition to two heart breaking miscarriages, it was time to accept it. Still, letting go is difficult.
I remember when we walked out of the doctor's office last Thursday. Sam looked at me and I looked at him. He was the first to break the silence.
Sam: So, now that we aren't having anymore babies, what do you want to do with the rest of our life?
My response just sort of bubbled forth, but I still meant it.
me: Well, I'm out of excuses. No more babies. Guess it's time to get back into fighting shape.
After all, I still have a two and half year old to chase around. It's not easy at any age. It's especially challenging since I'm older and overweight. I was tired of hiding behind the camera. Even though my husband clearly loves me and is attracted to me, I wanted to feel really confident and sexy. It was time.
Thus, we showed up at the hospital on Tuesday at oh dark thirty and I weighed in. Sam tried to peek and I warned him it was grounds for divorce. Even I didn't really know what I weighed, but I knew what my breaking point was, that number I never wanted to see on a scale, the one that would spur me to action. And I was there. Crap.
I tried comforting myself with the same lies I had been telling myself for some time. It's just the baby weight. My hope was I'd drop some serious pounds post op and feel better about things. Only that didn't happen. Instead, over the next two days, I gained water weight. My legs felt like tree limbs. I was stiff and uncomfortable on top of the surgical pain. Finally, I was desperate to do something.
We met friends for lunch, Lonnie and Lindsay with their son Isaiah. We showed the Ru Sans buffet who was boss. Then, later in the afternoon, Lindsay and I talked on Facebook and decided to get serious. Weight has been a struggle for both of us for entirely too long. It was time to do something about it.
Going the route of Scared Straight, I stepped on the scale fully clothed, post buffet. That did it. We made a pact, an agreement. We're going to work on this…together. I have to succeed. Know why? I deserve better. I deserve to be healthy and comfortable in my skin. I want to chase my daughter around and have to pry my husband off of me.
So, I did what I do. I started a blog. I created a Pinterest Board: Lifestyle Changes. I'm doing this. See, I'm convinced the secret to success isn't about going crazy and making a ton of big changes all at once. I know me well enough to know I will never maintain that way. Instead, it's about making little changes for a big win. What precipitates all change is the end of excuses. Every ending is also a beginning.
No more babies for me. Now the big adventure begins. Time to get my body back. Time to model a healthy relationship with food for my incredibly impressionable daughter. Maybe by helping me, I'll help others too.
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