Losing It

Over the past seven years, I have lost a total of one hundred pounds.  The weight loss came in increments, first significant and jubilant, but eventually became grudging and small.  I'd work for weeks to find a loss of one or two pounds.  It was demoralizing and difficult and not helped by comments I received from people who'd known me for years, telling me I looked "sick" or giving me a hard time about watching what I ate, as if my desire to become more fit and healthy were a flashing beacon pointing to their own struggle with health and weight.  



An effective instrument of torture

 The thing is, I wasn't thrilled about having to work so hard to lose weight.  At first, I tried numerous fad diets, diet pills, whatever promised decent results without exercise.  From early childhood, I've always preferred a good book and solitude to running around outside.  My school memories are filled with being the very last person picked for teams during P.E. because, well, I stunk at any type of physical activity. 

Inevitably, I came to the realization that nothing was going to work for me but a healthy, low calorie diet and regular exercise.  And not just walking around a track, but honest to goodness cardio that made my heart pound and made me sweat:  My own personal definition of Hell.  Even now, after doing it for so many years and making it a part of my daily routine, I still hate exercise with a passion and have to talk myself into actually doing the routine each morning. 

So anyway, after the whole process of weight loss I feel much better about my looks, but have accepted that I'm never going to be satisfied or happy with my physical appearance.  When I look in a mirror, I don't see the weight that's been lost.  I see the lumps and bumps that remain and vow to work that much harder to get them gone.  In photos where the faces are hidden, I don't recognize myself right away.  It's usually after thinking the clothes look familiar that I realize it's me.  You might think that'd be a pleasant surprise, but it's a bit unnerving.  A friend of mine told me "You're skinny, but you still think like a fat girl."  I suppose she's right.  But if it helps keep me grounded, I suppose that's something I can live with.

The Return

Considering my last blog post was in July, I'd say I can be placed squarely into the slacker category.  Apart from a pretty short, recent stint over at Hubpages, my writing has been at an all-time low.  Sad.  I still cherish a dream of becoming a children's author, but unless I put forth some actual effort, that's going to remain a dream.  Luckily some good friends have started blogging for themselves, which has shamed me enough to blow the dust off this blog and vow not to let it lapse this long ever again.  Cross those fingers!

So what have I been up to in the past year?   I've become Piano Teacher Extraordinaire to no less than seven students, continued to work part time at my kids' school, and have become happily entrenched in a circle of friends who have changed my life immeasurably for the better.  All of that has me constantly on the move, but in such a positive frame of mind that I don't really mind the chaos it sometimes brings.  And, thankfully, the hustle and bustle of a crazy schedule has helped me carry on through the dreary months of Fall and Winter.  The endless drippy gray skies don't seem as depressing when you've got fifteen minutes before a cheery ten year old shows up to bang out a dutifully practiced Old MacDonald on the keyboard.

Soon blessed Summer will be here, and I'll be in a state of perpetual cheer (never mind that last post from July. Heh.) with sun-filled days and campfire-y, s'more-y evenings.  In the meantime, I promise to blog as regularly as I can!