One step at a time
I woke up this morning thinking, “Oh, I have to go on my walk today. That’ll be cool…” Then I rolled over and went back to bed.
I got up later, brushed my teeth, and thought, “Yeah, I got to get to the park. I should get on that. Right, uh, now…” Instead, I cleaned up my bathrooms. Washed a sweater in Woolite. Threw old magazines onto my three foot high pile of recyclables. Ate a bowl of soup for lunch. Painted my bedroom in a cream colored primer — it looked good. Swtiched out my tired, freebie desktop for my less tired, not so free laptop, then hooked up my little speaker system into said laptop. Rearranged my long overdue bills — they’re at all clipped together and will probably stay that way until I win the lotto! Before I knew it, it was 11pm and probably too late to walk anyplace, let alone at my favorite park.
During my spring cleaning/desperate attempt to stay locked up in my apartment, I ran across a few pix I haven’t seen in some time. There were very cute pictures of my nieces, more pix of family friends, and two very scary photos of me. It wasn’t so much that I was twenty pounds heavier — though it was upsetting to see that my hips filled up most of hallway I stood in — as much as the sadness in my face. Two different photos taken two years apart, both of me overweight and broken. I kept wondering, “Is this how everyone sees me? Ewwww…Is this how I want to live? No…No!”
Though I prefer my current body weight, I didn’t do too bad at 165 pounds. I went out — parties, bars, dates. (A few really good dates that still give me the giggles thinking about them — woo-hoo!) I made a few new friends, too. Yes, I did pretty well when I was heavier and happy.
That point hit home recently when I saw photos of Tyra Banks in Hawaii. She’s 160 pounds — thirty pounds heavier than in her modeling days — and wearing a one piece swimsuit. Though she’s not skinny, she looks good. She could be a lot heavier and still be stunning because of the genetic lottery ticket her momma gave her, her confidence (probably another familial trait), and her sense of humor; all very attractive traits regardless of weight.
So here I am, two years into my separation, and slimmer than when I met my soon to be ex-husband, Endicott. I look better than I have in years, but it really doesn’t mean much when I’m down. I guess I need an attitude adjustment.
I’m thinking 2007 is as good a time as any for a do-over. I’ll start with my walk tomorrow morning and see where it takes me.
Best,
Flo
Add comment January 28th, 2007