Enter married life and having 5 children in 6 years, with each child weighing within 4 ounces of my bowling ball that I’m now far too busy to use. About 6 years after my youngest son was born, I was watching The Biggest Loser with my husband, that guy whose waist is only 2 inches bigger than the day I met him. Anyway, we were talking about weight and getting back into shape and I asked him if I were to lose all this weight I’ve packed on over the years and managed to keep it off for a year, would he be willing to pay for plastic surgery to get rid of any excess skin and maybe put the girls back up where they belong since I’m wanting to stop tucking them in my pants. He said he would. I challenged him. I bet him that I could lose my 40 lbs quicker than he could put on 20 lbs. He took that bet……………..and lost. I lost 44 lbs in 3 mos and kept it off for over two years. And then it started to creep back on.
Then I lost 10 and then I’d gain 20 and back and forth and back and forth until my heaviest (that I am aware of) was 231 lbs. OMG. So, when I came back to Egypt with the kids, we lived so far in the boonies that I had to walk at least 1.5 miles just to buy milk and 2 to catch a bus. I started walking the 3.5 miles home from dropping the kids off at school and the weight started to come off. Then we moved to a 5th floor apartment where the elevator had not yet been installed (which is fine by me because I’m so claustrophobic and they’re smaller than one of those public toilet stalls) and I managed to get down into a 12! It was soooo fantastic.
Then my husband came back from working overseas and I stopped walking as much because he didn’t want me running all over Hell’s half-acre all the time. And then we moved into a 2nd floor apartment that was much closer to all the amenities and schools. I appreciated the cut in time that moving provided me. The only down side was that it cut into my forced exercise program. So over the last year, I’ve ballooned up again. I don’t know how much I weigh exactly, but my size 16s are getting a little tight. I ripped the thigh out of my pants stepping up to get on a bus. (Thank God I wear a long dress over my regular clothes so know one knew.)
I am trying to get back into shape. After the whole heart work up last year because I thought I was having angina attacks and it turned out to be stress and gas (not surprising at all) I have decided to make better food choices and start to exercise again. Last year, I tried to go vegetarian and ended up gaining 10 lbs. And I really like meat. So that lasted only 45 days.
But now I’m trying to cut most of the non-produce carbohydrates from my diet entirely. I’ve stopped putting sugar in my coffee and tea. I will sometimes add a tiny bit of cinnamon for flavor. I’m trying to up my water intake and I’ve been taking Mohamed to his exams all week (approximately 5 kilometers away) and walking all the way back at a very fast pace (to 8-count 80’s music, in fact.) I’m sweating like a whore in church by the time I get to the vegetable market and I usually complete it in 25 minutes! Of course, today was his last day of exams and I have no idea how I’m going to do this now….perhaps I’ll change course and walk down to the beach and up to the vegetable market and back. That ought to be at least as long a course, if not longer. Whatever.
The main reason I started to blather on here was to say that I don’t feel depressed today. I’ve been sad and angry and miserable most of this week. Fighting my angst-y teenagers is usually the straw that breaks my camel’s back and after I scream at them and separate them I end up in the fetal position on my bed crying my eyes out. BUT today, after my shin splints stopped hurting me, I felt my face smiling without meaning to and I noticed how nice the breeze was and how beautiful a view it was (provided I didn’t look down at the garbage on the street.) And I felt better overall. Endorphins are nature’s Prozac. I LIKE this feeling. I think I’m gonna keep it up.