Inside of me lives this spoiled child that whines. A lot. I learned in my psychology class in college...many, many, many...decades ago...that my inner child is somewhere around two years old because its all about her. So now I'm 61 years old. Hey! I don't look bad for a 61-year-old chick! Especially if I squint at myself in the mirror!! (That deserved two exclamation marks.) Through the years (decades) I've managed to gain and lose weight so many times and so quickly...or slowly that at times I honestly have no conception of what I really look like even when I look at myself in that same mirror that tells me that I don't look so bad at 61 years old. Except when I look at a photograph. Except when my doctor told me a few months ago I'm looking at a hip replacement (or two) in my near future if I do not lose weight. He recommended I lose 30 pounds.
I've been on every weight loss diet there is I think: Weight Watchers (don't ask how many times I've rejoined), Nutrisystem, The Diet Center, LA Weight Loss, Jenny Craig, grapefruit diet, the banana diet, the soup diet, diet pills that would not allow me to sleep, not eating diet, the just drinking diet soda diet. Under some doctor's care where I was given a shot of goodness knows what. You name it; I've been on it.
My family doctor told me to buy the South Beach diet book. He told me carbs are not my friend. And did I mention I'm on medication for high blood pressure? And the latest med that my doctor put me on is a beta blocker because of my rapid and erratic heart beat. So I went on South Beach and yes, I lost 11 pounds in three weeks. That was two weeks Phase I and one week Phase II (like y'all don't know that...sorry). Then I got lazy. (The story of my life) And now I'm in a panic. (I also have panic attacks so I know what "panic" really is like.) I went on vacation. And I go back to see my doctor on July 9. I'm up 9 pounds. What the f---?! (Sorry, I usually don't cuss.)
I have learned on vacation: I have learned that when I eat pizza...or pancakes...or pasta...or something saucy, my face immediately flushes. Actually, my whole body turns pink. My heart is okay. Also, I've learned this morning that the reason my joints hurt again is because of that 9 pounds regained.
Right now there are some of y'all reading this thinking that this old woman lacks common sense. And there are some thinking that I'm stupid. I'm not down on myself. I. Am. Annoyed. With. That. Inner-child!
Okay. That's all the negative. Here is the positive: I could be a much larger woman that what I am. I used to weigh almost 250 lbs. but I have managed to get my weight down to 210 lbs. and maintain that for about 5 years. But it's not enough. I'm 5'5". No...that's a lie. I WANT to be 5'5" but reality says I'm a smidge over 5'4 1/2". Both my doctor and my dear wonderful, normal-weight, handsome husband say I really need to lose at least 30 pounds. For now.
I've got 3 weeks until I see the doctor. But I have a lot longer to live without pain if I get my weight down. Because, after all, if I squint while looking in the mirror I don't look bad for a 61-year-old chick.
So...here I am...living on the Beach again.