A milestone

I was breezing through my calendar last night when we got back from dinner with the in-laws and realized that this month marks a very significant milestone in my life.

One year ago, in the first week of September, I made the commitment to take better care of myself.

I’d had an embarrassing incident out on the jobsite that was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Not to mention the fact that I could barely walk up a flight of stairs without gasping for breath and in photos my face was always very flushed – so I knew that I wasn’t healthy and needed to do something.

Food has always been one of my passions. I love, love, love to eat. And not junk food, but real food complete with lots of heavy cream, butter, cheese, or whatever you want to add in there. So it was a real challenge for me to rethink my eating habits and cut back on portions. And I won’t lie – I still love to eat and still eat bad things sometimes, but I’ve learned to make smarter choices, eat less, and give up some things to have other things.

The other challenge was getting exercise regularly. I still exercise three days a week at a minimum, which is what it takes to maintain. Lately I’ve been stepping it up a little with some weights and ab exercises and they seem to slowly be making a difference. My plans to do another race this month have been scratched because of Dad’s illness, but there’s a huge race coming up in November that I’m itching to sign up for.

Forty-six pounds later and I feel good. Still would like to lose a few more pounds, but my boobs seem to be shrinking and I don’t want to give those up in favor of a number on a scale. If I could lose that last little roll where the “baby skin” is I’d be one happy camper, but I also have to be realistic that it may not happen without surgical intervention. Not to mention that I’ve always like women with curves, and as one of my guy friends told me a long time ago, “Meat is for the man, bones are for the dog.”

The changes in my appearance have been pretty significant. It’s attracted a lot of attention, both good and bad. Guys trying to slip me their phone numbers (including some guy who tried to pick me up with I was at the sub place with Monkey Man – dude, you might want to re-think your strategy!). Some jealousy from friends who are battling the weight demon themselves and not having any luck. Wondering if my mother, who is very critical of people’s weight, would ever acknowledge that I had lost a single ounce (and she finally did last weekend). A client asking me if I’d lost all that weight “intentionally”…I mean, what the heck?

A few months ago I wondered if I would always feel trapped in the body of my past. And maybe I always will, to some degree. I struggle with it every day – like a few weeks ago when someone told me I was beautiful, I almost had to swallow my typical smart-ass retort and just say “Thank you.” Yes, I’ve gained some of my old confidence back – and maybe even gained some new confidence – but I think The Old Me will always be somewhere deep inside.

And that’s not a bad thing. I think she’ll remind me of what I used to be, and where I don’t want to be again. She’ll remind me of the dark days of my past, and that I have a new world that I’m discovering every day because I feel good enough to do it.

I never dreamed that a year later I could look back and know that I’d succeeded in my goal. And here I am. It feels great.