I was still pretty skinny, but then I started having chronic back issues. The weight started to creep slowly higher. I was no longer skinny, but more average for a woman with three kids, who had a flower gardening addiction.
Then I had a hysterectomy. Even removing the Bubbette and Earline, the fibroid squatters that had taken up residence did nothing to what I was becoming aware of. The weight was still creeping upwards, and nothing I did seemed to reverse the trend.
Then I two things happened. I remarried, and received a hypothyroidism diagnosis. My new husband has terrible eating habits, Sorry darling, but you do, despite some health issues of his own, and I was just in “oh, crap-it-all, I give up.” mode when it came to what appeared to be a belly holding six months worth of baby. In reality it was a belly made of reese cups, bacon, pulled pork, biscuits and gravy, mashed potatoes and chex mix. I was either going to be needing to give birth, or needing to be berthed at a wharf somewhere.
Then my son insisted I have a sleep study. Hello C-pap machine. I sleep with a full on aviators mask that could almost double as the face sucking monster from the movie Alien. My aging and expanding body had given me severe sleep apnea
Then my knee gave out, and I had surgery. Hello bigger food baby, as the lack of mobility prior to surgery and during recovery meant that anything I ate was going straight to “baby” and my butt. The weight was on an upward trend and accelerating. My designated fat pants were too small, and I had started to look for extra large sizes to wear
My kids gently suggested that I do something to get healthy…like shed a pound or thirty. My son set me up on this app, called Myfitnesspal and I’ve been sticking to it, even recording my cheating. Yes, cheating. I’m sorry but potato chips, chex mix and a big old serving of biscuits and gravy sometimes just throw themselves in my hand and beg me to eat them.
Since the beginning of August I’ve lost a few pounds, each one sulking away almost without notice. Only my scale can tell, and my fingers, as my rings aren’t quite so tight any more. I firmly expect the next thing to start shrinking are the “toddlers” which is what I have named my boobs. The food baby, so far, refuses to shrink. As I try to do something exercise wise more often, I’m noticing more energy. I still deal with some chronic pain, thanks to joints I’ve been really mean to over the years, but that is slowly improving. I keep warning people not to get old. It’s not for wimps.
I am going to try to do regular updates on how I’m doing, help keep me on track on my progress, and hopefully help you exercise a chuckle muscle. I started at 234, I’m down to 225. Its the most amount of weight I’ve lost in 25 years, unless you count my ex husband. I’m in this for the long haul. Will I ever see the weight of my skinny days? I doubt it, but could I achieve pre food baby status? Eventually, hopefully.