Every Other Day of the Week Is Fine

Entry 1

I rowed at  cardiac rehab today for the first time. I was about two feet from a floor to ceiling mirror. Let's just say, the Michelin man and I could have been separated at birth--but never too far apart given our girth. I was feeling all proud of the weight I've dropped, but with every move toward the front of the rower, the illusion of meaningful weight loss was clear. What made the day more sobering is working out with the very fit exercise physiologist. There are a couple. One is easy on us, the other has us werk. This was the latter. I am grateful he is there, because the clarity I see my physical shape (think hum bao) after he puts us through our paces is invaluable. I like being pushed--which is something I didn't know about myself. I dislike not being able to keep up, and I can't. I do my best. The cohort has changed. A few are worse than me, some quite a bit better. I now have a realistic assessment of my pumpkininity and real goals. I am 172.8 lbs. again this evening, my blood sugar is in range. I have cut far back on my caloric intake to make that happen. I forgot for the first time in weeks to take my seven thousand six hundred and 34 morning meds and my blood sugar is still in the target range at 112. Not sure I want the mom-jeans speedos that Atlas is wearing, or the 1950s gender roles, but I would love to drop some weight and get in shape. I just didn't realize how much I let it all go, even though I was letting it all go on purpose. 

Per my BMI, and the mirror, I am overweight, but not obese. Small gifts and simple favors inure to my happiness. Just two years ago I weighed 149 lbs. Ask anyone and they will tell you I was positively skinny. Looking at the CDC chart, that is the edge of a normal BMI for someone my height. 24 to be precise. 24.9 is the top limit before hitting overweight. That took an incredible amount of exercise and dietary discipline. My stocky frame looked gaunt at that weight. I chose an arbitrary goal to get to 165, but that isn't going to cut it. I have to get back to at least 149, a seemingly Herculean Atlas-like task.

About the image above, I realize I said I wasn't going to post images of my body as I progress through, but doncha think I look a little like The Gipper in that picture? I hadn't realized.

I am purposely NOT talking about Abby and her departure. I am still excited and still dreading it, all the same.


 

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