This may or may not become a regular features on Bums & Bellybuttons. I can’t promise with any certainty either way.
But, here’s my rationale behind it.
I know people say that – and I’m guilty of it, too – to elicit compliments and choruses of “You’re not fat!” But, seriously. Fat.
I look like a Weeble. And, I fall down.
It’s not just about looks, although God knows I
hate don’t like the way I look. (As I typed, I was surprised to find that I actually don’t hate the way I look. Who knew?) I need to get healthier, too. I’m getting older (despite my strong opposition) and dealing with OI and using a chair, things are getting more difficult. I recognize my weight plays a major role in all of that.
And, despite the fact that I’m getting older, I am still too young to use a scooter, a van, or any sort of electronic bath/shower aid. Not. Happening.
I want to be stronger. I want to feel better. And that means doing things I seriously hate.
Drinking more water
Before anyone gets all uppity, I don’t hate water. It is necessary to live, and I like living. And there is nothing quite like drinking ice cold water on a hot day, and feeling the coolness flow down your esophagus and out towards your extremities. But, I am Southern, and my blood is more sweet tea than anything. Reducing that intake is going to be difficult. Hard. I don’t wanna!
Also, you have to pee ALL. THE. TIME.
For the record, I am not giving up refined sugar. I don’t care how “amazing” you feel after giving up the sweet stuff. There are just some things in life that are worth the risk.
This is hate on the level of “purple passion.” Endorphins, you say? Screw endorphins! I get endorphins after emerging from a serious drawing session. I get endorphins from reading a really good book. I could be getting endorphins from sex, if I could find a boyfriend.
No, really. I hate exercising. I hate some forms less than others. I don’t mind lifting free weights. Still, I always feel there are better ways for me to spend my time. And I don’t care what my doctor says about the brain not being a “muscle.” It’s still my favorite one.
Writing down what I eat
I am loathe to admit it, but this actually works for me. I just hate doing it because it is a nitpicky pain in the ass. And sometimes it is freakin’ impossible to find a correct calorie count for something. So, usually, I just stick to writing it down without worrying about calories. Something about having it available in perpetuity – or until I burn the damn thing – makes it easier to resist.
Cutting back the carbs
Another thing I am loathe to admit actually works for me. I love bread and pasta and potatoes. If it has refined white flour in it, bring it on. Please. Pretty please.
Curbing my sweet tooth
The truth is, I know all the right things to do. What I need is motivation to do them. I have struggled with my weight for as long as I can remember. What has happened in the past is that I will get sidelined by an injury and find it near impossible to get back on track.
Or, I will feel like I’m working my ass off (literally) only to have no noticeable results. Am I impatient? YES! That’s no secret. But if you’re doing something on a regular basis to improve yourself or your quality of life, and you don’t see an improvement, but you keep doing it? I’m pretty sure somewhere in there is the definition of insanity.
Motivation is my reason for turning to the blogosphere. Even if no one ever replies or comments, if I can hold myself accountable to writing these updates every so often, maybe I can make a dent. So, I will come here to either bitch and moan, or to grandly pat myself on the back for managing to build up some good habits.
Still, there are things I will not be sharing.
What you won’t see
I won’t be showing you my numbers. In the first place, do you know how hard it is to find a wheelchair accessible scale? In the second place, I think it’s been about 20 years since I was last weighed, and having an actual number would cause me to break with reality. And, in the third place, I am so not going through the hassle of wrapping a tape measure around myself to get some inaccurate number of inches. This also goes for clothing sizes, since, as all women know, no two are actually the same.
I won’t be showing you my food. I am a picky eater. I don’t like a lot of the “good for you” foods. I am going to have to retrain my palette, or just get used to eating the same few foods all the time. I also have a few “weird” food choices that have carried over from childhood and I’m just going to save myself any embarrassment.
I won’t be showing you progress pictures. At least, not at first. Maybe someday I’ll be able to brave that, but not today. Not yet.