Sigh

Starting again. T. and I talked this morning. He is really concerned about all the pain I am having and continuing to have. He accurately diagnosed that it began in earnest after Chickadee #2 was born, when I just couldn't seem to lose the baby weight (plus). I hadn't lost much baby weight after Chickadee #1 either -- but that was easy to blame on T.'s schedule, my stress, the miscarriage, our incessant eating out because it was 'easier'. With #2, I gained weight (not much, but some) but I had started at such a high level that it was hard to take comfort in that. I tried WW meetings, which were always difficult for me because I had either #1 or #2 with me (WW meetings are not exactly welcoming to children, in my experience). WW was also difficult for me because I have heard it all before, being a WW veteran. Remembering that WW considered me considerably overweight when I was at a scale number that I would actually be extremely happy with now and at which I felt good, beautiful, and healthy made me jaded with the whole WW approach. Additionally, every several years, WW revamps its approach so that all the materials you might already have no longer "apply" and you have to go out and spend more money and enthusiasm getting in sync with the new program.

And yet.... WW is an effective way of losing weight. And boy do I need effective. T said several things to me today that really made me think. The first was that he doesn't want to see me become the old lady in the scooter who can't walk at all (and believe me folks, some days I am not far from that). The reason it struck me was that last night, we had gone to dinner for my birthday at a famous local seafood restaurant. We had parked across the street from it, but had to walk up the block, across the 8 lane road and then down the block again. My feet hurt so much, I was hobbling and lurching. And, I actually had a vision of myself in a Hover-Round. That is not the life I want for myself or my family, but I know that if I don't get better all around, that is where I am heading.

The second was that he thought I just had to decide that this was the most important thing in my life and just do it. That reminded me of when I actually finally decided to quit smoking, years ago. I'd picked up the nasty habit in the last years of college, and going to Ireland for grad school solidified that habit into something I did as a matter of course (everyone I knew in Ireland smoked, except for the children). I thought for years about quitting, vowed to quit several times, tried to quit several more. Then, one day, overcome by disgust by my inability to conquer an inanimate object's hold over me, I just stopped. I threw away my pack of cigarettes and just stopped. I only tried cigarettes twice after that -- once when visiting a college friend and once at a particularly stressful time. In both cases, I threw the cigarette away before finishing it and honestly couldn't see the point or figure out the attraction these things had for me. I never had withdrawal symptoms, never felt jumpy or sad, never really missed them.

Now I have to figure out how to feel that way about creme brulee.