Wednesday, March 19, 2008
This is always the hard part for me. I start out like gangbusters; watching every morsel that passes over my lips, getting up early to exercise when all I want to do is catch a few more winks, and almost looking forward to getting on the scale or taking out the measuring tape.
Then after a few weeks--let's face it--a few hours, I get bored. I don't want to pay attention to my food or obsess about fat grams. I want to go back to the way things were in my twenties when I could eat anything I wanted and make fun of old ladies in their forties who stressed about weight.
Since joining SP in January, I have seen some results. Two pairs of jeans I couldn't pour myself into a couple of weeks ago now fit. (At least I can get them zipped, even if I'm not ready to wear them in public.) The scales have moved a little and I'm feeling pretty good about myself.
Well, you guessed it. I'm getting tired of watching what I eat. Especially this week. I've been filling Easter eggs today. More candy has gone in my mouth than in the eggs. As usual I bought too much candy so the overflow is in a candy dish in my living room. I don't want to guard my diet every minute of every day. But I need to realize this isn't a diet, it's a lifestyle change. I'm not 23 anymore. I can't eat like a pig with no repercussions.
I read somewhere today that exercise during perimenopause keeps weight gain during menopause to a minimum. Are you telling me that not only am I going to suffer mood swings and night sweats, I'm also going to balloon up and not fit into those jeans in my closet anyway? My mother never warned me about that.
Here's to surviving Holy Week and the family Resurrection Sunday dinner with no weight gain. I wish you all the best.