This year’s diet blogging begins on an up note. I’ve been off of sugar for a week now, with two alcoholic drinks during that week and not a single bite of a cookie or ice cream or anything. The weeks I spent off of sugar in April have paid off in the sense that I don’t feel particularly deprived; I barely miss it. My energy level was terrible for most of the week, though. No amount of sleep has been enough most days; I was always ready for a nap and sometimes had more than one in a day. I have exercised every morning this week, religiously, alternating yoga with a seven minute workout before breakfast. Meditation has been sporadic, but the relationship to weight loss there is debatable. Coffee has mainly been before noon; it really doesn’t help anyways. And I’m keeping the general activity level up, making extra trips up and down the stairs, walking to do local errands, etc. As a result, I’ve lost a couple of pounds. Once again, I had to invest in a better scale since my old one broke, so I don’t even know what my weight was ten days or a month ago, but a week ago it was 145, and this morning it was 142. I am nowhere near ready for the ol’ skinny jeans yet, but it’s all skorts and cotton shirts this time of year anyways. And in a swimsuit I don’t look particularly fat; what I look like is called flabby, which happens at any weight to a lady of my age. It’s part of the deal; you get to live this long, you get used to getting a little uglier every year. Carpe diem, bitches!

The weight is actually not my number one health concern this year. I’m kind of worried about my energy level, and that’s the number one motivator for trying to get my diet in gear. I just feel so fatigued all the time, and it’s absurd, because I hardly do anything. Until the end of August, I’m between jobs. NOT, I must remind myself, unemployed. My job classifications were rewritten such that I am not eligible to teach in the summer anymore, so instead I must spend the summer doing what I wanted to do with my life in the first place: making art! Which I am doing, and it’s great, and it takes time and thought and planning and persistence (as well as lots of money). But I would not dream of claiming that that is anywhere near as stressful as actual work. And yet, here I am, limping along through the day, doing fuck all but basic housework, looking after the kids, and whatever photo work I can sneak away to do for an hour here and an hour there. Congratulating myself when I do a half an hour of yoga and write in a journal. It’s ridiculous. I’m not that old. But I feel like I’m retired. Part of it is psychological; the isolation, losing the network and the routine, having no one really notice or care what I do or how I do it, knowing that the sun has set on anything resembling the academic career I used to think I was working on. Some of it is surely physiologial, though, in ways that I must have some influence over through life habits. Hence the summer get-it-together effort.

I actually had a good energy day today. It was not remarkably productive, but it was better than the rest of this past week has been. Maybe I am adjusting. I’m sticking to the lower carb diet as well as I can manage as we move on. As soon as I think I can handle it, I aim to ramp up the exercise a bit, but I’m going to try to really make the daily practice a stable thing first. Consistency is what makes the greatest difference.

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