So, my lifestyle change began yesterday. I refuse to call it a diet, it's much, much more than that! I started my day off by gathering up my ebbing courage and taking that big leap. I pulled the digital monster out from under the bathroom sink. It mocked me. Its glowing green "Zero" taunting me to, "Go ahead, step on me, I won't bite!" Lies. All lies.
I took a steadying breath and placed one foot on and slowly, ever so slowly, placed the other. The Zero flashed wildly, like some mad carnival lights. All it needed to complete the nightmare effect was Calliope music. Ugh.
Then, it happened. Nuh-uh! No way. Nope. Can a scale even GO this high? Did I goof and buy a truck scale by mistake? SHOCKER. Those digits glowed at me like a beacon. Honey, it's way past time. This is what I get for my constant habit of procrastination.
I dropped the kids off at daycare and boogied straight home. From there I grabbed the big trash bags and systematically scoured my cupboard, my pantry, my fridge and freezer. Out went the processed foods, the carb dripping foods, the fatty-fying foods. Anything that had "high fructose corn syrup"...gone. The ice cream...gone. The crackers...gone. My beloved apple pies....bye-bye. I must've tossed at least $300 worth of "slow death" in that bag.
Then I hit the market. $250 later I think I have everything I need to make more health conscious choices.
The math: $550 for a total fridge makeover. Do I have that kind of cash just sitting around? Oh HELL no...but, I figure this little investment now would be a much weaker punch to my shrinking wallet than the Insurance Premiums I'll have to pay on my ginormous ass in a few years.
3 years ago, I'd have taken my weight in stride. Then came my daughter....I was 36. I only gained 11 pounds while pregnant with her. Of course, I continued "justifying" my eating habits after she was born. 6 months later, I found out my son was coming. No biggie, I did it once, I can do it again. I only gained 10 pounds with him. And, yet again, continued that dreaded "justification."
After my son came, my relationship went to hell in a hand basket (okay, it went to hell in a runaway freight train, but I'm trying to be nice here)...being an "emotional" eater, this pretty much spelled my doom. Now, almost a full year after my son's birth, the mocking, glowing numbers of the digital scale show me just how bad the past year has been.
It's also showed me that I need to get my rear, in gear. I'll be 39 shortly. I refuse to be this weight at 40. I have children now. I need to think about THEM instead of thinking about how to satisfy that 1am craving for an apple pie.
I want to run with them, play with them. I want to have the energy it's going to take to keep up with 2 active toddlers. I don't want to be the "Fat" mom. I want my kids to be proud of me and, most importantly, I do NOT want my kids learning my bad eating habits.
So, I begin. Wow, do I have a road ahead of me.