I had a birthday last week. It wasn't the "big one", but one before the big one. My son and I were on a plane heading out to look at colleges, and as I watched him absorbed in whatever was playing on his laptop, I faced some pretty hard facts:
I am now both the shortest and the heaviest person in our family*.
I weigh more today that when I was about to give birth to that boy seventeen years ago. The idea of having the baby weight melt away naturally has clearly not worked.
I'd first conceived of losing 50 pounds by my 50th birthday almost a year ago when my bathroom scale hit a truly terrifying number. That morning, when we left for the airport, the scale readout was identical.
Damn it! I thought. No more wasting time.
We landed, and immediately went out to a birthday dinner complete with wine and a delectable, warm-from-the-oven mixed berry pie ala mode for dessert.
OK, that was one last week wasted, but now?
I've got about 50 pounds to lose. But more importantly, I've got some bad habits to break. My plan is pretty simple:
- Eat less, eat better, and eat mindfully.
- Exercise every day in some way, and work out hard as often as possible.
- Don't be a maniac. Change takes time, and drastic measures will just make me crazy.
- No matter what, be accountable. No one owns this but me.
When I first came up with this idea, my husband suggested that instead of strictly focusing on what I was giving up, I think about things I'd always wanted to do, and treat myself to those along the way. He's kind of a genius, that guy. I don't have a list in mind, but I'm going to be on the lookout and chase those like mad, too.
I'll be posting updates here every Monday, sharing stories of my misadventures in body shrinkage, and tracking my progress. A big thanks to Rebecca of Ezra Pound Cake for the idea of giving myself a tangible way to do that.
There are 50 stones in the red jar now.
Here's to a green jar full next year.
* In fact, I am shorter and heavier than many players in the NBA, but that's a whole 'nother level of shame.