This blog is an egg of an idea still very much in the nest. Thoughts can come a plenty, but some, on further examination, seem as appealing as yesterday’s dishwater… cold, with the bubbles burst flat. 2012 is shaping up as the year that will either knock me out in the eleventh hour or see me become a dogged woman pursuing a seemingly out-of-reach goal. I vote for the second choice!
What does G.L.A.D. have to do with it?
The letters stand for what I hold dear (God’s grace), something I take way too for granted (Life), a few ghosts (Activity of the physical variety would be my ghost from the past. Activity of being a light to others is my Casper from the recent present. Spending time with God in prayer, contemplation, more listening, and less moaning like a rattling old ghost myself.) and some daunting D words (Depression, Dietary choices, Decluttering). I think those three are pretty tangled together in my case.
For a female who’s read enough books about health and diet to stock a small-town library, why am I still so overweight? Knowledge alone isn’t getting me thin. I believe that I’ve had depression to some degree most of my life. As a teenager, I’d have episodes of feeling “The Black Hole” crowding in on me. I knew when that happened, I wasn’t fit to hang out with humans. It would last a few weeks and then move on. Life would feel normal again. I never really knew what brought it on, but I could surely feel it coming. I discovered aerobics in my late teens and noticed when I did them… well, I discovered a few things. My first real experience with aerobics was with a Richard Simmons album (yes, that’s right, one of those shiny black discs that played at 33 rpm) titled “Reach”. The problem with doing a workout to a vocal prompt with no visual guidance is that I put my back out shortly afterwards. I don’t think the goal of using his record was to end up walking like Quasimodo!
Anyway, making myself breathe hard, break a sweat and choose foods that didn’t come in plastic wrappers seemed to keep Black Hole away and my clothes would magically fit. When I had too many dates with ice cream from U.D.F. (United Dairy Farmers to those of you not from Cincinnati) and Twinkie boy, my clothes would mysteriously shrink and that ‘Rebel With A Cause’ Black Hole would come knocking. I don’t know if I associated these things back then. I just knew I looked sassy in my faded jeans and size ‘Small’ British band t-shirts.
I suppose these chronicles will be about pursuing the G.L.A.D. and leaving the G.A.S. behind….
G-Gritting my teeth at the thought of ever
S-Sue as a human with any redeeming value whatsoever
I had such a surprise breakthrough this week. This involves backing up a bit and giving you some background.
Oh, how the years go by….
September 25th was my 30th wedding anniversary, a momentous milestone these days. My husband Craig and I celebrated by going to a retirement party for a friend of Craig’s, being held at Great American Ball Park during the Reds game. Before I loved squirrels, I adored piggies. Imagine my delight, seeing a few of my porcine friends at the ballpark.
Why do I want to sing “Macho Man” and “Y.M.C.A.” when I look at this construction worker pig?
What a jolly piggie!
Everything went pretty well until time came to head back to the car. Overweight and out of shape, long walks and stairs are things I tend to avoid. Hence why I’m overweight and out of shape. On this evening, I didn’t have a choice. It was h-u-m-i-l-i-a-t-i-n-g. When you’re sweating so hard and panting loud enough to cause a slew of calls to 911 because people hear a pervert following them, it’s scary. Climbing the stairs in the parking garage, I had conflicting thoughts blaring through my brain. The first wondered why it smelled like a mens urinal at the bus station. Did these people never hear of regular deodorizing and sanitation practices? The second image centered around my chest which felt ready to explode. I wondered if this was what a heart attack felt like and questioned if not, how could it possibly hurt worse? The third was a passionate prayer that God didn’t let me die right there in that urinal needing sanitation. What’s gross is when you’re sucking air that hard, you REALLY get the stench of urine in your nostrils.
For a few weeks, my heart has acted oddly, sounding like an out-of-tune-Mayberry band, with the odd, but regular, heavy heartbeat. Breathing during any exertion has become increasingly labored. It causes me such embarrassment that I try to hold my breath when anyone walks past within earshot. Heaven help me if they linger longer than twenty seconds. If that happens, I pretend I’m thinking about Robert Downey, Jr. in “Iron Man“. I wonder if I might experience simultaneous combustion if I were ever to walk on a treadmill and watch “The Avengers” at the same time? Oi, now there’s something to think about.
Back to the story, this has all vexed me enough to call my doctor and ask for an inhaler. He wanted me to have a stress test and a pulmonary function test, to see if there’s anything to worry about. The stress test has come back normal, for which I profoundly thank God. The P.F.T. will take place Monday. I sincerely hope I’m simply an old gray mare who’s ‘just’ obese and out of shape. If this is the case, a box of Clairol, diligent exercise and mindful eating can improve my symptoms dramatically. I think I’ve danced with denial long enough. That’s a mental exertion all its own.
On October 1st, I weighed in at 252 pounds, measured a 48″ waist, and I currently have an energy level of minus ten. Transparency must be my middle name. I don’t have the wherewithal to skirt the truth. The waist is the only measurement I hold interest in, as the number is one of the indicators for heart health. I’ve apologized to my heart for treating it like crap and I’m trying to make amends.
Oh, the breakthrough, I nearly forgot to write about it. Note to self: add Distractible to my D words. As I worked on something at my day job this week, my perpetual negative self talk kicked in and started to drone on about what a nincompoop I was. From somewhere inside me, courage hopped up and I said out loud, “I am NOT worthless and I’m NOT a loser. Period.” What the heck? In all my fifty-three years walking this Earth, I’ve never had the natural response of thinking I’m somebody and refuting that negative b.s.
Please hang out and take a walk with me.