Most people have a ‘ta dah’ point when something tips them over the edge. I had one a few weeks ago. A new vest I ordered off the Internet fit far more snugly than it ought, especially considering that I ordered it in a size roughly equivalent to the girth of Jupiter.
I was horrified; felt myself tipped over a dreadful precipice of admission - I have become… uh... increasingly ample. You know what I mean.
In the past decade my weight remained static, or at least seemed so to me. I gradually built up a wardrobe of comfy clothing that I like. Then I had the BIG ACCIDENT, which resulted in my having snapped my ACL ligament in my right knee. Post-accident I stopped whatever exercising I had been doing - walking and using my treadmill - but my eating habits remained the same. No surprises there.
That brings me back to the vest; a marvelous, cream colored, faux sheepskin lined, pocketed & hooded vest which is so cute I squeal every time I look at it. I ordered it in 'my' size but to zip it up I had to suck in my gut and turn blue. The aggravation! That was the 'ta dah' moment that pushed me over the edge - decided I must do something. My concession to girth challenges are two:
1. I may eat anything I like, as long as I write it down.
That may not sound like much of a concession but happily, doing so pretty much halved the amount of calories entering my vast untamed maw. I'm apparently too vain to eat some things some things if I must record it on paper. The spiral bound journal I log my chow in is adorable; has lovely feathers all over the covers and pretty lined paper. I'm into esthetics.
2. I exercise a minimum of 30 minutes, 3 times a week.
That's the full extent of my new routine – write it down, work it off. No big changes there, but the pounds ounces are just pouring trickling from my ample arse. Progress report: my adorable vest can be zipped up & within its admitedly still snug grip I do not feel quite as much like a ten-pound sausage in a 2-pound skin.
