I’m feeling stronger today, and I can’t say why. I can imagine myself at 160 pounds, and today the goal seems manageable. I’d like to be free of this extra 45 pounds I’ve been carrying around for the last 15 years. This morning I felt a hip underneath the flab. It was encouraging. I can only dream of the other bones I might find underneath all this when I hit my goal.
The hardest thing will be to keep up my morale and desire once I get below 190. That’s 12.5 pounds from now. But from experience, I know that once I start fitting into a size 14 regular (that’s usually right around 190) my motivation starts go because I start thinking I look okay. This time, though, I’d like to go all the way.
Now that there’s no Paris vacation gumming up the works, I feel like I can really concentrate on my diet. I feel better when I eat well. Tonight it’s going to be stuffed green peppers and tomato sauce. I’m hungry now.
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I’m back, not from Paris, but from Reno. My father has been gravely ill and I’ve been spending oodles of time up there. As a consequence I’ve cancelled Paris.
I feel selfish for saying this, and I suppose it is selfish in practice, but I find Reno a hard place to be. From a health perspective, it’s just plain bad for me. If ever there was a place where processed carbohydrates could be a major food group, Reno is it. Everytime I go I gain weight. This up and down has been going on for weeks since my Dad got really sick. And I’m sick of it.
Somebody wrote in and suggested that I just quit trying because I hate it. The truth is, though, that I don’t hate dieting. What I hate is not seeing immediate results. I know that’s irrational. Nothing is immediate when it comes to lifestyle changes. As I’ve mentioned elsewhere, I have the slow-going metabolism of a earthworm. So I hate the fact that all I have to do is eat a Cheeto and the pounds pile back on. Though I’ve come to like healthy food and honestly enjoy cooking it too, I still stumble and wish that the consequences weren’t quite so measurable.
So I don’t want to quit. I realized that upon spending time with my Dad in the nursing home. While he is seriously ill and it’s not his fault, he’s also not done a thing over the last eight years to help his health in the least. Now he’s basically immobile. He refuses therapy. He’s given up. I don’t want to. I want to be healthy.
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