Wednesday, August 28, 2013
Ya know – I’ve been toodling so happily along this year, changing my eating habits, exercising when and how I can, and just generally having a good time with this whole “healthy lifestyle” thing.
I don’t *do* goals, but have had a rough idea of where my surgeon wanted my weight to be for a successful repair on the massive incisional hernia that decided to appear and complicate my life back in January. There was no pressure and no time-line, just a “some time in the future” thing --- so it just never bothered me when I had an uptick or a plateau for a few weeks. I tried the lower end of the calorie range for a while, decided that it was too much like work, and went back to the high end: I figured that things might be faster at the lower end, but that it just really wasn’t worth the extra effort (and not feeling as well) to lose faster. After all, what’s the hurry?
So much for THAT theory.
Apparently it’s time for a wee slap from reality: I now have a date for the surgery: November 25 – just 13 weeks away.
The surgeon would like me to be at least around 170 lbs by then, if not a bit lower.
The Man laughed his arse off at me, because this news sent me in to a complete and total panic. It seriously was as if I’d never even considered that eventually there *would* be a time-line, with an end date, and a surgery… I was doing soooo well with happily ignoring reality.
Well, I’ve averaged about 1-1/2 lbs down per week since January, and really only need to average 1 lb per week down from now ‘til the surgery, so you’d think that I’d be feeling pretty confident about it… yeah, not so much. You all know as well as I do that this time-line thing is going to pretty much guarantee a plateau about now, right? Yeah, right. (insert favourite expletive here)
Fabulous. Just freakin’ fabulous.
Don’t get me wrong --- I’m looking forward to the surgery, and getting back to strength training, and being able to move without the constant fear of the silly thing getting incarcerated and sending me to the emergency room (although I might actually miss the occasions when it randomly decides to imitate an alien-baby arm trying to reach through my skin: I find it hilarious how it totally freaks out anyone else who’s in the room at the time…)
I just really don’t like having a time-line, and had to have a stern chat with myself to remember that the only “pressure” that it imposes is what I create myself.
So. Panic is now over with, and it’s back to happily toodling along and enjoying life with all of the healthy changes that have been made. My body will either be at the weight the surgeon would like, or it won’t, and there’s no need to worry about it. A couple of pounds either way is not going to be a make-or-break situation, so I will just continue with what makes me happy. Right? Right.
I found it funny how a simple thing like a date was able to suddenly make a “goal” seem important to me. I’m soooo glad the Man was able to laugh me out of it, cuz I’m not nearly as happy when I *have* to do something instead of *wanting* to…
Here’s to all of us continuing with happy life changes simply because we WANT to…