I
need a support group to help me with my "W" project.
"W" for weight---loss,
hopefully. My arthritic joints, back and legs are screaming for help, my
pre-diabetic lab glucose numbers were just recorded with my concerned doctor,
my number on the scale is shocking--and I want to gag every time I see a photo
of myself.
My
"W" goal and plan is threefold" . Walk, Water, Write.....
Walk, or at least exercise, every day,
a minimum of ten minutes at first.
Water, at least three glasses per
day.
Write a daily food diary, and make
personal journal entries daily.
And
so I begin yet another journey into self-improvement—sigh. When did it all begin? Probably my first weight loss experience was
when I was 14, and my brother Nick was 11. We were both given Dexedrine pills to
cut down our appetite, and reduce our chubby frames. Mom began cooking “healthier” meals for us,
and it worked! For my most of high
school (and even into college), my weight was almost normal. I always had
the big hips (genetic, you know), but I certainly looked and felt better about
myself.
And
thus began my frequent struggle to lose the same weight—over and over again. The Slenderella machines, which were supposed
to shake off the weight from a band around your hips…
….the
Atkins diet, the Drinking Man’s Diet, Weight Watchers, Overeaters Anonymous,
The Low Carb Diet, the No Food Diet, yada, yada, yada…
So
many diets, so much weight gained and then lost again. During the 1950’s and 1960’s, doctors handed
out “diet pills” liberally, with often no more health monitoring than taking
your blood pressure and weighing you monthly….and collecting their fee.
I
want to a “diet doctor” who handed out the pills in small white bags! Like drugs! And they were drugs—they were
amphetamines! Yes, the pills cut down on
my appetite, and also made me feel energetic and more positive—and I smoked
much more too, because I was hyper. My
contemporaries will remember the controversial book Valley of the Dolls
(and later movie). The “dolls” were
pills that everyone was popping during those legalized drug days.
I
liked losing weight, I liked more energy, and I liked the positive
feeling. It wasn’t until thirty years
later that I found out that the positive effect I loved was really from my
genetic lack of serotonin….I had inherited my father’s depression. Until I was blessedly given Prozac in the mid
1990’s in my fifties that I saw how much I needed that serotonin---like others
need certain vitamins when they have a deficiency.
I
wasn’t overweight because I was depressed—I was overweight because I was a
“fattie” genetically, and so needed to fight this condition my whole life.
I
finally resorted to bariatric surgery in 2005, at the age of 63, and at my
all-time weight of 277 pounds, which did not sit attractively on my 5’3” height! And from this drastic alteration to my
anatomy I achieved success---for a while.
I lost 110 pounds during that first year after surgery, and kept MOST of
the weight off for 8 or 9 years.
But
now I sit like a chubby Grandma Buddha,
with almost all that weight back---at
250 pounds.
Even
after a double knee replacement surgery in 2011, shoulder replacement surgery
in 2015, and hip replacement surgery in 2016, I walk with a cane. My legs are weak, stairs are nearly
impossible, and I can walk or stand for only short intervals of time.
I
am blessed in that my basic health is really good.
But since it hurts to move, I don’t---move, that is.
My
favorite activities can be enjoyed while I am sitting on my ample ass: reading,
watching TV, playing scrabble and gin rummy on my smartphone, using my laptop
computer for email and Facebook and online shopping and…..and….almost everything.
But
I just had a round of lab tests,
glucose and all the standard tests.
The day of reckoning once again
dawns on my
flim-flam lifestyle.
I have to get up, get moving, get real, get healthier.
And
so I turn to my journal and my blog
and to my email and Facebook buddies.
HELP!
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