You Can't Get There from Here

     Imagine, if you will, that you're driving along the Road to Fabulous, minding your own business when someone suddenly points at you and yells, "HEY,DOOFUS! YOU'RE DRIVING IN REVERSE!" Whoa, dude - Ithought something was wrong with the scenery! Fact: you cannot get to Fabulous going backward.The whole wrong-way direction my health was headed was what spurred me on to this little blog experiment in the first place. My overall health and well-being seemed to be going from ok,to bad to worse in a hurry. Gaining weight is bad. Gaining 15 lbs. in a year and a half is tragic. Gaining 5 lbs. in 2 weeks is a cry for help. Gaining weight after you've publicly announced you were getting healthier is downright embarrassing.

     Things had gotten so out of hand that I could have been in my own Subway sandwich commercial. You know, the one where peoples' buttons go popping off or they break their chair the moment they take a bite of food? Yeah, that's me. Sad, but true. Case in point: a couple of weeks ago I was looking for a book along the bottom shelf of a bookcase, so I had to bend down. When I did, ziiiiiiip, the zipper on my skirt broke. (And then I was late for work. Bonus!) I'm down to probably two pairs of pants and three skirts that I can wear comfortably.

     I'm what they call an emotional eater. So I pretty much eat my feelings. But the worst part is that I sometimes know when I'm doing it and do it anyway. Let me introduce you to my crazy self, Self-Sabotage. Self-Sabotage is such an idiot that when she's angry or depressed she says, "I'm angry or depressed, so I'm going to eat all of these chocolate chips and this box of Cheez-Its." That's when rational Kate says, "Um excuse me, crazy self, but that's emotional eating, and it really isn't helping the situation." To which Self-Sabotage replies, "I don't give a crap! I'm angry or depressed so I DESERVE this delicious treat! And I will eat it. Now! BWAH HA HA HA!!! chew, chew, chew." Insane, I know. The inside of my head is kind of like a traffic circle in Shanghai. You never know where anyone is coming from or where they might be going.

     Speaking of chocolate chips, (see what I did there?) another little bump in the road is that I like to bake. Do I like to bike? No. Too sweaty. I like to bake. And I bake cookies. Lots and lots of cookies. I usually bake around ten dozen or so a week. Christopher brings Mrs. Hayes' Not Really Famous but Sort of Locally Well Known Chocolate Chip Cookies to study hall on the night he proctors, occasionally he'll bring them to class or to his advisees. The kids have come to expect it, and I enjoy doing it for them. I'm pretty good about not eating the cookie dough (raw eggs, ewww!), but quality control is important, so I have to test a few once they're baked. Sometimes we have a dozen or two hanging around the house. When that happens, I end up eating one or two for breakfast, or maybe lunch, or when I'm just passing through the kitchen... So there's a little issue with self-control in the kitchen. I do not want to end up like Paula Deen. Hey y'all, Type II Diabetes is fun! Let's fry us up some butter in a little butter with some butter on the side. Soooo good y'all!

     Now that I've gotten the transmission in my Fabulous Roadster repaired (meaning I’ve got my head screwed on straight), I've started to see some progress. I'm being more careful about what I'm eating and Christopher and I have been walking around the track in the evenings. I walk the dog twice a day, but this does not count as exercise; it's meandering. A Facebook friend said about his dog, “he examines every blade of grass as though he's searching for a lost contact lens." Yeah. It's a lot like that.

    The next step in the journey, I think, is to find another form of exercise that I enjoy. Right now the only one I like and do consistently is walking. And that's fine, but I think I need a little variety yes? So perhaps the object this summer is to investigate various options. I'll check out some yoga, maybe some Zumba; I'm sure to look absolutely ridiculous.

     But if I'm going to look like a doofus, it should be because the wind's in my face as I speed down the road to Fabulous, not because I'm traveling in reverse.