Tales from the Shark Tank

I’ve just made the appointment to see the dietician my new doc referred me to about this weight-loss thing. I like this woman a lot; in a 5 minute conversation, she demonstrated clear understanding of emotional aspects of the matter at hand and let me know that. (In other words, when I said something “didn’t matter”, she called me on it. She did it gently, but she did it.) There’s going to be a lot more to this than just “follow this chart”, which is what I’ve had in the past. She’s also assuming more than a single appointment after which I would be left to my own devices. My own devices haven’t worked, so I’m very pleased by that. And I still don’t really care a whole lot what the numbers are. I just want a body that I can live in comfortably instead of argue with.

As previously commented, I am, if not lighter, then perceptibly smaller than I was when we moved here. On the other hand, I just got a rather blunt reminder of how much bigger I had gotten over the year preceeding the move. I made a dress shortly before my last day-job and I parted company, then was not invited to the event for which it was made and never actually wore it. But it’s of embroidered linen, and very pretty, and I did not doubt that eventually the opportunity would present itself.

It has; my cousin’s middle child is becoming a bar mitzvah this weekend. So I pulled it out and tried it on, primarily to see if the sweater with which I wanted to wear it would look good. The sweater looks fine, in so far as color is concerned. The dress, however, is so tight it doesn’t even zip. And while I’m trying to “keep score” by things like my energy level and whether my joints complain at me rather than any numbers, it’s still a major ouch.

The first of this month, I decided that rather than put our rent check in the mail, I would walk it over to K’s house, as she lives a grand total of half a mile away. Then I kept going on up to the next county road, turned around and came back. I paid no attention to how long that took me, but I only went about a mile and a half total. When I was done I was absolutely wiped out and appalled by the fact.

It’s two weeks later. I just went out for a walk, as I’ve taken to doing daily. I covered about three miles all told, and I’m fine. If there weren’t other things for me to attend to, I could have kept going. There is no outwardly visible change yet, nor was I expecting any after so short a time. But I wasn’t expecting any perceptible change in stamina yet, either, and here it is. And since that was the point of this in the first place, I’m very pleased indeed.

I finally got a chance to get in and join a gym today. You’d think it wouldn’t take much coordinating, but somehow the school day is never long enough for me to accomplish what I want. So today, as soon as His Boyness was safely at school, I headed in the direction of the Emporium of Exercise, there to write them a check and get my photo printed on one of their cards. (I must say, it is bar none the *worst* photo of myself I have ever had the misfortune to be saddled with, worse than either my passport or my driver’s license. It is so bad that I may “lose” the card simply for the sake of getting another one.)

I had some other obligations thereafter, but early afternoon I managed to get back with my swimsuit and necessary stuff. I managed to swim laps for half an hour without collapsing after. Given that I am in the worst shape I’ve ever been, that makes me pretty happy. Tomorrow morning will see me joining the water aerobics class that meets 4 days a week. The mission is really very simple. I want to have a body I can live in comfortably again. It’s been too long.