I was pondering this in my heart this morning as I was going through the dreaded routine of cleaning. I love a clean house and I used to quite love cleaning because, well, it gave me a clean house. But lately, it seems like a drudgery. There are so many more fun things to occupy my time. I’d rather be writing, or painting, or cooking and have a cleaning lady. But alas, I’m her. I’m her because I have the time and I don’t have to funds to hire someone else. But I digress….this is not what I was thinking about.
What I was thinking about was how many people I have told that I’m going back on the Whole 30 because I felt great while I was on it and I even lost 8 pounds. I didn’t do it to lose weight but as you reset and get healthy and eliminate cravings for poisonous food you automatically lose weight because your body is healing itself and let’s face it, overweight is a disease. 8 pounds is insignificant when, in your head (or at weight watchers) the goal was actually 40. Then again, 8 pounds is 8 pounds! Was losing 40 pounds even sustainable for me? Obviously not. At WW we all watched everyone’s weight. Sometimes we watched it go up. I quit when I realized I was going in the wrong direction. It works if you work it. But clearly my focus was elsewhere.
But Whole 30….I thought it was great and definitely effective AND healthy. And I thoroughly enjoyed it because I set aside 30 days to focus on nothing else but that really. There is no doubt in my mind that eating food as medicine and not stuffing my pie hole (I’m eating a piece of homemade apple pie as I type this) with poisonous addictive food is far better for me. But that took concentration and resolve and time and motivation which I am very often in short supply of. So I’m not sure I’m going to actually do Whole 30 again. At least not the rigid by-the-book Whole 30. Maybe a more realistic and reasonable Whole rest-of-my-life. Somebody suggested trying out the Half 60 but I’ve done that often without even knowing it. I think I’ll aim for continuous improvement.
For many weary strugglers, weight is more about health than image. But for me it’s been bit of both. I’ve done the Daniel Plan and the Tosca Reena clean eating plan (which did work BTW). I’ve done cleanses and fasts. I’ve worked my brains out (because clearly it wasn’t ‘my ass off’) at the gym and wrecked my knees and hips jogging. I’ve done the jube jube and popcorn diet (I made that one up myself). I’ve even been on the stress diet – by far the most effective but I don’t recommend it. Not worth it. When life gets better the weight comes back anyway. I’ve spent an inordinate amount of time wishing I was littler. Imagining what it would feel like to put my hands on my hips and feel nothing but bone. And a thigh gap? I’m rolling on the floor doubled up in fits of laughter at this very moment. Who invented that standard that’s driving our adolescent girls into therapy? And worse.
I’ve lost and gained the same 25-40 pounds 6 times in the last 30 years. Lucky for me I carry my weight well. Non experts usually would never guess my actual weight. Big bones is always a popular comment. Well, not really popular with me but still very often used. Ok so I won’t be prone to osteoporosis then. I have been struggling with being too heavy all of my adult life. Well not all, I guess ever since my first pregnancy and that baby is now 30 years old. I’ve always felt I was overweight even when I wasn’t. I look back now and regret the time I spent obsessing about it. But the world and its judges put so much pressure on women to be a certain size and I’m afraid I drank the KoolAid. I mean let’s get serious, the last time I was a size 8 I actually WAS 8. At size 10 people wonder if I’m anorexic. I just have a heftier build. What can I say? Built for endurance not for speed. Plus the extra fat stretches out the wrinkles so that’s a bonus.
I’ve decided I am tired of trying to fit into the mold and 2008’s jeans and 1981’s bathing suit or even my wedding dress, which now fits my right thigh, by the way. It’s such an all encompassing battle and ain’t nobody got time for dat.
I’m thinking maybe it’s time to just let go of these unrealistic expectations I put on myself and quit managing my image and just enjoy life to the full each day. I know I will suffer the consequences of poor food choices and lack of exercise if I just throw all caution to the wind, so I’ll just try to be prudent and wise and give up on the obsessing. God cares if we are healthy but he doesn’t care if we are supermodel thin. Besides, I’m 60. That doesn’t mean I should let myself go but I think I finally have the maturity to realize there is so much more to life than thin. Hello? There are just so many more important and expedient issues and concerns to focus on in this life. I don’t really have the time to be totally absorbed about my weight and image AKA myself. And who really cares anyway? I always think people are looking at me and judging me when really they are too consumed with their own insecurities to even notice what’s going on with me.
Sure I can feel my flesh jiggle as I walk. I know I’m only fooling myself if I think my long hair is camouflaging my double chin. Nobody is going to get a chance to place wide load signs on my butt because I carefully and strategically keep it covered. I’m the quintessential butt coverer, in every way. I was overjoyed when they invented tall boots with neoprene over the calf so I could wear them without cutting off my circulation.
In more recent years, doctors (my new hero… Dr. Oz) and fitness folks have emphasized lifestyle change. Rather than a time limited, food eliminating or combining experiment with the thin promise of incredible (and temporary) weight loss by next Tuesday, we are being encouraged to actually change our lifestyle on a daily, lifelong basis. I’ve gained much knowledge from reading (Dr. Mark Hyman) and trying (Whole 30) and this will be the basis for my evolving lifestyle. I will endeavor to make exercise and good eating part of my life – not a 30 day experiment that consumes my entire soul. It’s slower but wiser and in the end more successful. More peaceful. Less anxious. More realistic. Less frustrating. More forgiving. Less demoralizing. More sensible. More, more, more. Less failure. Less, less, less.
All this to say… I’m giving up. I’m letting go. I’m getting off the treadmill, so to speak. I’m setting myself free. Free to be me. Free to not meet the worlds unrealistic standards of perfection. Free to not let the number on the scale define my worth. I’ll still eat wisely 80% of the time but I’m going to enjoy my 20% of indulgence. I’ll still try to workout regularly because I know how good it is for me but I’m not going to beat myself up because I missed a workout because I was tired or needed to meet a friend for coffee. Its life. I actually quite enjoy physical activity which is a blessing since I love to eat and I know that it makes me feel so good even though it can hurt so bad. But I have more important and more expedient real life issues to focus on. My November TO DO list will not have ‘lose 25 pounds by Christmas’ on it anymore.
How many stories have you heard about women that long to conceive and once they either adopted and/or stopped stressing and worrying about it ….. it happened. Or those women desperately looking for love in all the wrong places and when they finally let go, love found them? At 60, weight loss is not on my radar anymore. Health is.
The Red Plaid Apron 