This blog is missing something, and that something is accountability. I have decided to start by taking stock:
I am 38 years old. I think. What year is it again?
I have two beautiful daughters and a husband who loves me. Together we share a home with an over-excitable bird, two under-excitable cats, and the pawprint of a third cat whose departure is recent enough that I refuse to leave him out of any stock-taking.
I am five feet five inches tall. In January of this year, I weighed 233 pounds, and this summer I was down to 204 pounds. Last Monday I weighed in, for the first time in weeks (months?), at 210 pounds. I have not been counting calories, I have not been active. I have not been trying. I have had some issues that I’m working on. But it’s time to start working on this issue.
I have good reasons to get fit.
I have been thinking a lot about what it was in January that helped me get the ball rolling. Somehow I set myself on the right path, and it almost seemed so easy that I wondered how on earth I had gotten so fat to begin with. It wasn’t a new years resolution (I don’t believe in them). It wasn’t seeing a photo of myself, or someone else’s success story. It wasn’t a dress I wanted to wear, a person I wanted to impress, or a marathon I wanted to run.
It was nothing but a day, after a string of days scattered over months, where I had set out with a plan to track my food – and then given up. Some times by mid-morning. Sometimes I lasted to (or even through) dinner. But time after time, it didn’t stick.
And then, one day, it stuck. I expect it was sheer probability: try something for long enough, and sooner or later it’s bound to work.
So this is what I’m going to do. No grand plans, no big resolutions. Tomorrow, I will get up, and weigh myself. I will post an update. I will record everything I eat. And if I fall, I will pick myself up and try again. It’s got to work eventually.