Age fifty-one, and 151 pounds. At a height of 5’1″, that’s not so hot. Arghh.
I had so planned to be fabulous at fifty.
Four surgeries in the past four years make for a pretty good excuse, but really it’s all due to the sugar and carbs I kept eating after the surgeries. It’s all the exercising I stopped doing even after the doctors cleared me for returning to the gym and neighborhood walks. It’s the stress-eating as I worked long hours grading papers and planning lessons, the not-working out I did as I angsted over my children’s problems and worried about my own issues.
So, what to do? Get moving. Watch what I put in my mouth. Keep track of calories and trips to the gym. I’ve done this lose-weight/get-in-shape thing before. Lost fifty pounds about nine years ago. Kept it off for five years. Did it by walking fast about three miles a day, often twice a day, in my rural neighborhood, by using the weight machine in my bedroom at night while we watched TV, by doing floor exercises while the family watched DVD’s. I can do it again.
I don’t have the illusion that I’ll have the same body I achieved almost a decade ago. Breast cancer, mastectomy and the treatment that followed have left me forever changed. Hysterectomy and oophorectomy along with an inability to take any kind of hormone replacement due to my type of cancer have left me crashing into menopause. I just look and feel and move differently than I did before. But I’m still a pretty woman, and I know I can regain energy, strength, and shapeliness if I work at it.
I sit here today on March 2 at fifty-one and flabby. But my gym clothes are on, my sneakers are tied, and my water bottle is filled. Good for me. Off to the gym I go!