Okay, so how long have I been fat? Um, how old am I? Yah, really - it has been that long. Then there was this little window, this lovely moment of thinness that came and went like a dream.
I lost 90 pounds on a medical fast and...TA DA!! I didn't look like Barbie. I was still 40-something. And it was HARD. Hard to find a way of eating that didn't involve chalky shakes or vacuum-packed squares of pseudo-food. And then some stuff happened, and 2 years passed and suddenly that closet full of size 10's (hey, I am 5'9" and at 156 I looked SKINNY - but size 10 was as small as I got, sue me) was buried behind a pile of size 18's. And I am fat again.
I am also hopeful. I just never give up. I can't. I have this 6 year old daughter who asked me the other day "Mommy, are you going to die and go visit grandpa in heaven?" Well, not if I can help it - no offense to God (with whom I have this sort of bigamistic relationship - He gets to love everyone, I love Him) but I don't really plan on setting up house above the clouds anytime soon.
So I need to get my stuff together - and take it on the road. Back to exercise that is more strenuous than buttoning my jeans.
Wanna come along? It should be interesting - even if all you do is take odds on how long it will take for me to crack and hit the gravy boat again. Come on, you know you want to...
