It's Gettin' All Serious Up in Here

I pledge to tell the truth - the whole, ugly, embarrassing truth, so help me, God.

...

Maybe.

...

Mostly.

...

Let's just see how this honesty thing goes.

At the end of June, I had my yearly physical and blood test. I have to check in with my doctor every month, for six months, for my insurance to pay for bariatric surgery. One of the fun hoops I get to jump through as a possible bariatric surgery candidate. I'm not 100% sure about having the surgery, but I figure I can at least get the doctor visits out of the way, in case I do go with the surgery.

So, after my blood results came back, I learned that my bad cholesterol was too high, the good cholesterol was too low, and my blood sugar was a little elevated. And for the second visit in a row, my blood pressure was high, a problem I've never had before. Doc was concerned. He's giving me three months to make changes and see if I can get my blood pressure back to normal without medication.

I think my body is telling me something.

I think it's telling me, "Hey, lady. We've been holding on now for a long time, but we just can't fight the forces of nature, chemistry, and gravity. The knees are about to give up, permanently. Ankles and hips are also about to rebel into all out war. You gotta do something here. Heart and liver are thinking of joining rebel forces. It's just a matter of time before someone fires the first shot. Call a truce already!"

I think my wardrobe is telling me something.

I have no pants or shorts that fit. I had to make a run to the fat girl section of Wal-Mart to find a pair of capris that I could wear on vacation. Size 26. I've only been a size 26 while pregnant. I've had to revert to wearing my granny panties that have been stuffed into the back of my drawer since the last time I had a baby - 2 years ago. When I tried on the capris in the dressing room, I tried to cry quietly so the Wal-Mart associates wouldn't hear. I think they figured it out anyway.

I think my scale is telling me something.

It's hit an all-time, non-pregnancy high. Yesterday, I stepped on it to see what the damage was now that we're back from vacation. I've gained at least ten pounds. The scale read 294. Only six pounds away from 300. Three hundred pounds. I nearly weigh three hundred pounds. How can I weigh almost three hundred pounds? When did that become okay with me?

I'm at that point where I need to make a choice.

If I keep it up, I'll be well on my way towards looking
like this guy. Daniel Lambert weighed over 700
pounds when he died at 39 years old. If I keep it up,
I'll be lucky to live as long as he did. Time to
make some changes around here.

Either I say "screw it" to trying to lose weight, and just give in. I get fatter and fatter, buy a new wardrobe, and start my morning out with a glass of water and a variety of multi-colored pills to keep my blood pressure and blood sugar down. I live the rest of my life with bloated, swollen feet and knees that constantly ache. I stop getting down on the floor to play with my kids because it hurts too much to try to climb back up. I stop buying shoes with laces because I can't tie them. I start balancing my plate on my belly, because it's too far away if I leave it on the table. I eat, and eat, and eat whatever I want until it kills me.

Or...

I do what I know I need to do.

I follow the WW plan. I track my food. All of it. Every bite. I exercise daily. I don't settle for what tastes good now, but think of how I will FEEL good later. I take pounds of pressure off my knees and joints. I get back into the clothes hanging in my closet. I play with my kids. Really play with them, until I'm breathless, and then play some more. I buy a new wardrobe because all my other clothes are too big. I enjoy my life. I enjoy being thin. I enjoy my health. And I live.

I like that second option so much better.
I think I'm going to go with that.

So, for today, I have chosen option #2.
I walked 2 miles in the pre-dawn hours.
I tracked everything that went into my mouth today, even when I wasn't proud of it.
I stayed within my WW points.
I played with my kids.
I got down on the floor, and back up again, even though it hurt a little bit.
I did what I needed to do to be successful today.

Now just to rinse and repeat until it's a habit.