Ramblings of a Dieter
Five weeks ago, I began my adventure into the world of weight loss. I quit smoking three years ago, and in the process gained seventy pounds. So, finally deciding that a healthy mind and healthy body go hand in hand, I decided it was time to make a change.
Change sucks.
Now, to be fair, I blame all of this on the weight loss shows that are shown incessantly on television. I watch and become motivated thinking that I, too, will be able to lose 5-10 pounds a week if I work out every day and eat right. Well, guess what? I work out six days a week and eat right, and I’m barely losing a pound a week. Where are the dramatic results? Where are the tear filled weigh-ins when I make my trainer proud? I have half a mind to go to the gym tomorrow and yell at my trainer and tell her she is a miserable failure. Then, I might just possibly stop off at the closest fast food restaurant and order one of everything off their dollar menu. Inevitably, I would cry myself to sleep, convinced that weight loss is completely unattainable for someone my age.
But, I won’t.
Tomorrow, I’ll get up and meet with my trainer to up the ante on my weight training as well as increase my cardio. Then, I’ll go home and plan a healthy dinner with appropriate portions and pray that I lose at least another pound over the course of 7 days.
French fries have been replaced with rice, hamburgers have been replaced by turkey burgers, and chicken and fish have replaced pizza and chow mein. Soda is out. Water is in. I’d kill for some spinach dip right now.
I admit it – most of this is my fault. In my 20’s and 30’s, I was able to cut out soda, increase water and cut back on my portions and drop 10 pounds without even blinking an eye. Silly me, thinking that in my 40’s it would be just as simple. Now, my body is struggling to hang on to every ounce of fat as if it’s fearful of losing an old friend forever.
So, in the end, I’m making reasonable goals. I’ve bought clothes a size smaller as motivation. I keep healthy snacks in the pantry and fruit in the fridge. There’s a skinny girl inside me somewhere screaming to get out. I apologize to everyone at the gym if she screams when I’m doing body squats. But, if she grunts from time to time, get over it.