Movin' on Up

I have come to a calm acceptance about aging, body image and worrying about what others think. My underlying belief is kindness, a genuine smile and pleasant demeanor go a lot further than the way a person looks.

My aunt started nudging me into this way of thinking many years ago. I was coloring my hair at the time and she knew it. "Why do people color their hair?" she would ask. Time and time again. I defended my position with the response "I want to feel okay with the reflection in my mirror"; "Once you start coloring your hair, it becomes about dealing with the roots" and several other variations of the same answer. To which she would reply, "You still look OLD, you know"; "Black hair and a wrinkled face don't fool anyone"; "Nobody else cares" and several variations of her own responses would follow.

We had this conversation on repeat for many years. Then the pandemic and self isolation recommendations gave me the courage to forge through the uncomfortable phase of dealing with my roots as they grew out. A year later, I was completely "natural" and my hair was the color God intended. My aunt complimented my hair color time and time and time again. Yes, letting go of the facade was the right way to go. 

Then came the weight gain.

I lamented that I was fine with the extra poundage but I wished my clothes would grow right along with me. Weekends became my favorite days because I could wear my black pajama bottoms all day, feel dressed and be comfortable. Wearing actual clothes was something I dreaded as much as Monday mornings. Discomfort in every form of the word. I felt awful in my skin and worse in my clothes. Thank goodness I was comfortable in my natural hair color.

Budgeting has always been a priority in my little world. While others may go on a diet, I would go on a budget. I couldn't afford a new wardrobe so I had to be able to fit into my existing clothes. This strategy worked for six decades then something changed. I want to believe it is just a tumor that has extended my waistline to great lengths but that doesn't explain the excess on my legs and rear view. Maybe it's a glandular thing ...

Enough was enough. I finally succumbed to spending some of my hard earned money on clothes that actually fit. Value Village to the rescue!

It was easy to cull through the clothes I don't wear or no longer fit, so I had a donation of clothing which rewarded me with 20% off of my purchases. I came home with two pair of capris; two tops; two pajama bottoms (yes, even my pj's are tight!!); and one pajama top for $36.29 (add my current credit card which is paying 5% cash back on all purchases for the first three months and that is a further $2.88 in savings).

I couldn't wait to get dressed the next morning. As I stepped into my proper fitting clothes, it was as comfortable as wearing my pajamas! The wave of excitement that rippled through my being was palpable. It felt good to be dressed again!

I'm not quite sure I have the same acceptance with the reflection in my mirror. My aunt no longer comments on my appearance, so I fall back to her default response "No one else cares" to appease my concerns. Mom would care ...

In the meantime, I am reveling in the fact that Tuesday is 30% off for ages 60+ at Value Village. So I topped up my new wardrobe with a few more items. For a grand total of $44.20, I have updated my wardrobe with these items:

My size has doubled since I was "in my prime" but I'm movin' on up the only way I know how. Bargains all the way, baby!

Spent

Visions of staining, washing windows and lawn mowing filled my thoughts during my restless sleep last night. So much to do. So little weekend. I got up at 5:30 in the hopes of squeezing everything into one day.

I gave myself the gift of the morning to do what I wanted to do, breathe easy and take what I needed from the morning. It was lovely. Three hours of morning time is my daily norm. I have been lacking normalcy this past week. Three hours felt lovely.

After the clock struck the end of my three hour hiatus it was only 8:30. The hardware store which stocks the miracle deck painting brush opened at 8:30. I was there.

Deck staining was to be done in the shade. Our deck isn't shaded until late afternoon so I started the day by washing windows. Scraping paint off said windows and window casings took a little added time and made me ponder the idea that professional painters should offer to wash windows after their work is done.

Window washing has been long overdue around here. It feels wonderful to have squeaky clean windows. Ahhh!

Then came the lawn. I have shirked lawn mowing duties around here for two weeks so I felt it was my turn to step up to the lawn mower. And I did.

Pulling weeds, sweeping up paint chips and scraping off plaster/crack-filler off the driveway took the last of the energy I had. Rain is in the forecast within the next 24 hour period so I was relieved to stroke "stain the deck" off today's roster of events.

I don't accomplish what I used to in a day. I feel slow and sluggish. I look at our five year old cat who moves slowly and sluggishly and I see "me". This same cat can't jump 6 ft fences in a single bound any more. He can't even jump onto the 3-1/2 ft deck railing without engaging his front claws and using his back legs to climb up. He uses the top ladder rung when jumping onto the decking of the kid's play centre we have in the back yard.

I was telling my son that our cat reminds me of myself. "Maybe he has arthritis," I added wistfully. My son just chuckled and said, "No, he's gained a lot of weight." Oh. Me too.

I share an affinity with our Junior Cat in residence. We've both slowed down prematurely. We've both packed on extra poundage. We both love leisurely cat days.

Who's to argue with that. I accomplished enough for one day. The evening is mine, to do with as I please. I do believe it pleases me to laze around with the cats. My 5 a.m. mornings are catching up with me.

I Feel Your Pain, Little One...

Things have been getting a little too serious around here lately. It is time to change the channel on that line of thinking. The time has come to smile and think light thoughts. It is time to switch over to the Cat Channel within life as I know it.

Let me start with a little introduction to when we adopted our youngest cat "Jet". We went to the SPCA to window shop for a dog. Our most special little cat, Andre, had died a few months prior. We were not looking for a replacement. We were craving a new chapter. We considered and wondered if we could become "dog people".

Long story short, we came home with a little black cat who mirrored Andre's size, mannerisms and looks. This little black fur ball literally reached out to us and climbed from one set of arms to the next. Just like when a baby holds out their arms when they want to be held by a person who is not holding them.

Jet's first day with us - look at that smug expression on his face. He has played his humans well.
Life is about to get interesting...

Spoiler alert. Jet just wanted out of that cage. He is a master at recognizing human's weaknesses and preying on them. He took one look at my youngest, reached out from the bars that were containing him and tapped her on the shoulder.

We have never looked back.

We brought our new little black kitty into our home. "Ray" (our senior cat in residence) didn't blink an eye when this Andre impostor walked out of the cat carrier and started to investigate his new surroundings. Jet fit into Andre's cat harness like a glove. Andre was a petite black cat and when Jet fit perfectly into Andre's personal harness, it was like finding the missing piece to a puzzle. Our family was complete.

Ray and Jet meet

Jet fit into our home like he was custom made for us. We saw Andre's spirit within him and it was like living with a youthful, healthy version of our precious Andre.

Jet, in Andre's cat harness (he got into some white paint - just a taste of what was yet to come)

Okay. Now you know the beginning of my tale. When Jet moved in with us, he was a small cat. He weighed somewhere in and around nine to ten pounds. We were told he was an adult. I now believe he was only a teen. Because he grew.

Jet is growing comfortable with us and letting us know his "true self"

The last time we weighed our twin black cats, Jet had caught up to Ray in size and weight. They both weighed in at the exact same weight of 12 (point something, I think) pounds.

Our "Black Twin Towers"

I often call them our "twin towers" as they mirror each other's pose even when they are not looking at each other.

Enjoying the only dry spot they can find, after making a "cat escape" from the house

Bird watching in tandem

I believe the last time we weighed both cats was late fall. Perhaps early winter. It doesn't really matter except to drive home the fact that it was after they had become house bound this past winter. Jet likes to jump our fence and make daring escapes into our neighbor's yard. So it is important to remember that Jet was a lithe, lean athletic machine the last time we were outside.

Fast forward to this spring.

Our snow finally melted and we made our first foray onto our deck and Jet came out to join us last weekend. My Middle Son (who has two lean cat specimens of his own) picked up Jet and immediately asked how much he weighed. He was HUGE in comparison to their cats. We weighed both Ray and Jet shortly thereafter. Ray still weighed in at a stable 12.2 pounds. Jet however, tipped the scale at 15.4 pounds. Astounding.

We didn't really think of it again until Jet decided he needed to catch a bird and was ready to make a break from our yard. He bounded for the fence and missed his target by a mile. His jumping abilities hadn't quite adapted to his 25% weight gain.

A picture from the archives, showing our 6 ft fence that Jet cannot presently scale

I then recalled how Ray is now the only cat who will retrieve a toy from underneath the cabinet in our living room. I saw Jet try a while ago but he backed up when he couldn't get past his shoulders.

Just as I finished writing this, Ray snuck under the cabinet for a little "alone time" from Jet
(can these guys read minds?!?)

We all think this is pretty funny as Jet tries to adapt his inner image of himself to his present day body and weight size. Then I took a good, hard look at myself. I too, have packed on some extra poundage. I'm not squeezing through narrow aisle ways quite the way I once did either. I am not one to laugh.

Jet, I feel your pain. You feel the same on the inside but the image in the mirror isn't quite the same as it used to be. Do we adapt? Or do we diet?

I believe Jet is saying "We adapt. I didn't really want under there anyway."

This is a Test. This is Only a Test...

I have worn my new "Fitbit" wristband for one day and I have the stats of my life-as-I-live it. It isn't all bad news but I think I may just be able to make a game of living a little bit healthier. I wrote a little blog about it over at MyKawartha.com:
http://www.mykawartha.com/blogs/post/6269359-this-is-a-test-this-is-only-a-test-/

This is a Test. It is Only a Test...

Well, I did it! I took the plunge and got myself a Fitbit Charge. Well, in reality I actually bought the "Flex" first but I didn't realize it didn't have a display. So I spent all of my after supper hours making that exchange, then dealing with syncing my new Fitbit to the computer. That is a story unto itself. More technical difficulties that the Fitbit help centre could not help me with (their answer was to return it to the store, but eventually I figured it out on my own). Another three and a half hours of my life eaten up with technicalities. But that is not the story I am here to tell. This is a story about my "control day" (it may become a control "week", I have not yet decided) as I dip my toes into a lifestyle of healthier choices.
The Fitbit stats from my first day are a tad skewed due to the four hours it was out of commission while I made my exchange then tried adding and syncing my new "Fitbit Charge" to the Fitbit dashboard. Even without that four hours (which most likely would have been spent sitting in front of the computer or television anyway), I managed to hit 8,679 steps. The "goal" is 10,000 steps per day and since I have already logged 707 steps this morning (and all I have done is get ready for my day), I think I may have hit the 10,000 mark before yesterday drew to a close.
My statement that I don't sit idle throughout the day is a true one. I have my Fitbit stats to prove it. The fact that most of those steps were considered "light" intensity, only a small percentage were "moderate" and none at all were intense is duly noted. We may have daycare dance parties and Patty Shukla "shake and move" songs instituted into our days more often.
I must admit that it was the sleep log that piqued my interest the most. I consider myself incredibly blessed to be able to log the sleep hours that I do. Sleeping is my all time favorite activity. It's crazy but it's true (I have visions of falling asleep on the couch in my room, then ceremoniously climbing into bed running through my head as I type). I fall asleep at the drop of a pin but I don't sleep through the night often. My stats for the past two nights are: "Awake 4 times; 24 times restless" and "Awake 2 times; 21 times restless". Time to fall asleep (both nights): 0 minutes. Sleep efficiency (for both nights) is 90%. I knew it! I am a pretty efficient sleeper. But I do have to wonder if adding more intense physical activities could improve that efficiency. Hmmm...
Then comes the calorie intake. I set a goal to lose ten pounds so my Fitbit tracker tells me when I have exceeded my calorie intake for the day in order to achieve that goal. I have already consumed 37% of my allotted calories for the day and all I have logged is my breakfast smoothie. Yesterday, I should have stopped eating halfway through my lunch. Obviously I didn't, so if I want things to change I obviously need to eat less. Or move more. Or a combination thereof.
This Fitbit isn't really telling me anything I didn't already know but it is making a game out of it. Do I want to exceed the goal of 10,000 steps? Yes! Am I encouraged to add a little high intensity into my steps? You betcha! Would I rather move more or eat less? Maybe a combination of the two. I like eating. Not quite as much as I like sleeping, but I often seek happiness within a can of Pringles. I don't believe in deprivation. But given a choice, I would choose sleep over food.
I may just need to start going to bed at noon in order to achieve my food intake goals, but if I move a little bit more maybe I can afford to stay awake long enough to see me through my work day.
I see a glimmer of hope here. I know I need to work a little harder at achieving my "optimum health goals". I don't have a retirement savings plan. My retirement plan is to work. I don't want to work forever, thus I really don't want to live a long, tired existence. Therefore, am I subconsciously sabotaging my own health in order to live a shorter life? Sounds like a depressing thought but it is there. The truth is, I quite likely will live to whatever age I am destined to live. My choice is: Do I want to live a long, healthy life? Or a drawn out meager existence, fighting the effects of the sedentary lifestyle I have adopted?
I may have to give up writing in lieu of a morning exercise routine. Maybe moving in the morning will inspire better writing material. I am not sure what the answer is but I know it is wise to ask the questions.
This is a control week. This is a week where I take note of what I am doing presently and question what should change. I hope this Fitbit challenge is exactly what I need to start to make a game out of moving more and eating smarter.
This could be the week that changes me. If I allow it. But for now, I need to fool myself into believing "This is a test. This is only a test ..."

Attainable Goals

I am not big on setting New Year Resolutions or setting myself up for failure by setting goals that are out of my reach. But I'm all for setting "Attainable Goals" and adding onto that as I go along.

I wrote a little blog about it over at MyKawartha today: http://www.mykawartha.com/blogs/post/6244444-attainable-goals/

Pre-Reunion Preparations

One month from today, I will be attending my 35 year class reunion.

One month ... what can I do with a month?

• It will give my ultra-short a chance to grow out some more. I am three weeks in and I have now reached the point of not shuddering at the new reflection in the mirror. Is it better than it was or have I just gotten used to it?
• It will also give my roots a month to grow out. How much grey will be showing in a month? Will I care? Should I care? Ten dollar cover up job in a box will have to suffice. If it matters to me at the time.
• My wardrobe. Will I be able to open my tickle trunk (aka: closet) and find something appropriate to wear? My years of dancing provided me with more choices than I used to have. My years of idleness since that time has added some extra poundage which eliminates some of those choices. Sigh...
• Speaking of weight, what can a person do with a month? I have no desire to go on some crash diet or exercise regimen to change 'what is'. I think the one thing that I will attempt, is to cut out after supper snacking. This includes eating supper before 8 or 9 p.m. (I'm tired of waking up still feeling full).
• Pedicure? My three week old pedicure may as well  have never happened. The nail polish started chipping after a week, my heels are cracked and the calluses have all returned (I don't think they were ever gone to start with) in their glory. The sandal season will most likely be over. I won't sweat the feet stuff.
• Manicure? I have a coupon for a free manicure at the school that did my hair and feet three weeks ago. Five hours invested and I had to get my hair fixed and my feet look no better than they did before this. I think I'll simply spread some cuticle oil on my cuticles, file my nails down to the same length and call it good.
• Botox? Plastic surgery? Face mask? It is too late to worry about anything besides a face mask. Perhaps I will wear veils...

To tell you the truth, I'm not overly concerned about my outward appearances. Oh, I care. But I am not going to become obsessed with that-which-I-cannot-change in a month.

What I care about is the inner 'me'. If I find someone that I used to know, I hope that we sit down and chat and everyone will forget about what the other guy is wearing. Once I start talking to a person, I don't see beyond the words that I am hearing and the person that is inside of the body. I feel myself change from the inside, out when I speak passionately about life and the way I see it. I find that I feel the same way about whoever I may be talking with.

Happiness and contentment ooze out of one's pores when that is their truth. There is no mistaking a person who wears their face naturally and proudly declares to the world 'This is the me I have grown up to be ... and I am happy with the person that I am today'.

I shall dust off some old dance clothes, cover up my feet, make the best of what my hair has to offer and accessorize myself with a smile and an honest desire to reconnect with a friend or two (I still have a very hard time believing that I will actually know very many people there - I was such a hermit in my high school days). 

If someone wishes to judge me from afar and see only my imperfect body and hair or whether I have aged gracefully or not, so be it. The only impression that matters to me is the way people see me when we have a conversation. I promise to reciprocate the kindness.

Outward appearances are fleeting. It is the way a person internalizes the life which they were given and run with it that creates the person within. Our physical body can be snatched up and consumed or destroyed. Our spirit can be faced with the same adversity and come out stronger, more compassionate and beautiful than ever before. 

Will I remember this as I get dressed on my class reunion day? There may be a moment or two of amnesia before I walk into that room. But once I settle in and find my comfort zone (oh, I hope my comfort zone will be present on that day), I'm sure that I will settle in and enjoy the little moments as I find them. 

Those little moments. That is what it is all about ...

Oh, My Aging Body!

Yesterday started with my curiosity getting the best of me. I stepped on the scale and weighed myself for the first time since last fall.

Lately, I have been noticing that I much prefer my coats to have a zipper that also zips up from the bottom. At first I thought it was simply because it was more comfortable to drive and move around. Later, I realized that my derriere must be widening. Because my long coat was tight when I zipped it up. Ewww!!!

I have gained several pounds since I last stepped on the scale. At first glance, it looked like maybe three pounds. Then again, it was more likely five, because the last time I remember what my weight was, I was weighed at the end of the day. I stepped on the scale in the morning. This usually shaves off a few pounds.

So I did the math. My coats are getting tight in the 'rear'. I have moved up several jeans sizes. I have probably gained five more pounds than my last noted weight gain.

You can imagine how pleased I was when I went to go out last night and I noticed that I felt like I had 'worked out' in the aforementioned body part area. Cool! I wondered what I did to work those gluteus maximus muscles.

I didn't think on it too hard and went on my way.

It was when I was getting ready for bed, that I remembered the tumble that I had taken while I was delivering flyers in the dark yesterday morning. I got caught up in some ice ruts and went down. Hard. I landed on my back (end) and was stuck on the ground, loaded down with the full load of papers that I was carrying (I have an over-the-shoulder bag, and half of the papers are in front; half are in back). After struggling with the thought of "how do I get myself up??" for a millisecond, I mimicked the actions of the one-and-a-half-year-old I babysit, that continually falls when she is outside. I rolled over on my side then braced my feet & hands, then walked my hands back towards my feet until I could stand, like some fancy yoga move.

I was pleased that I didn't take any more tumbles on the ice. I am feeling a tiny bit brittle these days and I am not sure how many times I can go down before I break. But I basically filed the memory away and carried on with the day.

Just before I hopped into the shower last night, I noticed a huge bruise from my fall earlier in the day. I was so disappointed to realize that the stiffness that I felt earlier was not from working any extra muscles. It was a pretty impressive bruise (not to be compared with some tobogganing and first-time-skiing bruises that were particularly memorable).

Then I went to bed. I fell into a rather restless sleep. Perhaps it had something to do with the large cup of coffee that I had after supper. The caffeine didn't prevent me from falling asleep but I believe that it was partially responsible for my brain not shutting down and letting my body fall into that deep paralysis when one dreams. Because I hurt. All night.

This morning, I woke up with the visual image of myself as of one of those paper dolls one can make with paper fasteners, where all of the joints are movable (a little bit like this: http://fc04.deviantart.net/fs71/i/2012/069/b/1/ella_ooak_articulated_paper_doll_by_purplefae-d4rsjrj.jpg (minus the youthful and fit body image) ... and I thought to myself "It is like all of my 'paper fasteners' are rusted ..."

As I carried on with my morning routines, I couldn't help but think of the additional poundage that I have been gradually amassing these past years. What if I was thin and brittle and took a tumble like I did yesterday? Maybe I would just snap and break. Yep. Everything happens for a reason. I had a nice 'cushion' to fall on yesterday morning. An impressive bruise trumps a broken hip any day. I'll take the bruise.

Now, about all of those 'rusty joints' ... I think I need to lubricate them. I've been running low on potato chips lately. That must be the problem.

They Fit! They Still Fit!!

I have been afraid to try on my formal wear in preparation for my upcoming cruise (which is now nine short days away). But part of me was still counting on the special magical spell that has been cast upon that particular part of my wardrobe.

The formal attire that I own seems to have a little bit of magic woven into the fabric. Any time I need to wear these items, they somehow magically transform themselves so that they still fit me.

I have a pretty impressive formal wardrobe for a girl who hangs around in a diesel shop all day. My previous work-from-home-careers would lead one to believe that I would have a closet full of jeans and T-shirts. I don't.

Thankfully, I dance! Dancing has created a need for 'smart casual' attire. Our annual showcase has helped outfit my closet with a small selection of formal wear (not to mention a small array of ballgowns and slinky rhythm apparel).

I opened up my closet doors last night and was prepared for anything. How could my clothing possibly still fit after all of my overeating and lack of activity? I've been here before. So I tried again.

I felt like a little girl playing dress up ... with the clothes in my very own closet. I quickly accumulated the formal garb that I would require. Then I started playing around with the rest of my regular weekly dancing wardrobe. A few outdated glittery tops could work well as camisoles. And voila! I had created a brand new look with very old clothes.

I easily amassed seven evenings worth of "Smart Casual and Above" and "Formal" attire that I will require for our cruise.

It is the rest of my wardrobe that is lacking. The hanging around the ship and going on excursions wear. The day-to-day clothing I will need while we spend the last three to four days hanging out in Anchorage and finding our way home.

The wardrobe that doesn't expand and shrink with me. Denim is such an unforgiving fabric. Denim keeps me grounded. It tells me when I overeat. It is screaming at me to get active again. No give, no take. It is what it is. And my new body doesn't fit so well in my old denim. Sure, I can put it on and zip it up. But it isn't comfortable.

Yes, my formal wear still fits. It fit me 10 pounds ago. It probably looked a little better back then too. The only magic about those clothes is the elasticity of the fabric.

To keep the denim or to let it go, is the question. Denim is my reality check. It is what it is. Body size changes are easily measured when you wear denim. But every girl needs a part of her wardrobe that stretches the truth (aka: fabric) just a little bit.

As we change, grow and evolve as a person ... isn't it also part of the process for our bodies to change, grow and evolve? Isn't it only fitting for our wardrobe to reflect those changes and give us a little leeway? A little room to grow?

I'm grateful for my formal wear that has that little bit of pixie dust sprinkled into the weave of the fabric. A small bit of magic that makes me feel as young, vibrant (and thin) as I was when I first wore them.

My formal attire not only gives me room to grow. It gives me a little bit of room to dream.

It's Coming From All Angles

Do you ever feel like 'the world' is speaking to you because you are getting the same message from completely and entirely different people in your life?

Yesterday, the essence of the same thought came to me from my mom, a friend at the dance studio and one of my favorite blog writers.

The long and short of it is ... I have just over a month to squeeze myself into my existing ballgown (for an upcoming dance showcase).

Mom: "You could lose 10 pounds in a month!"
Friend: "You have time to lose the weight"
Blog Writer: "I'm going to do the 30 Day Shred ..."

I didn't put it all together until this morning. "30 Day Shred" = "I could lose 10 pounds in a month" = "I have time to lose the weight".

I Googled "30 Day Shred". I read a brief write up on what it is and what it has the potential to do. I watched some video clips.

It wasn't until I watched the videos that I realized that this could also be a part of the other equation going on in my life. My goal of leading a Zumba Fitness Class.

I could take a little of what I learn from a non-Zumba environment and incorporate it into a some fun and dance moves. I think of Zumba as dancing ... but in reality, it is dance fitness. I should focus on the fitness part of that equation.

Three different people from three vastly different parts of my world. Two planted the seed. One presented a solution. It all adds up.

When 'the world' speaks and the same message comes to you, from several different corners of your world ... listen.

The Number Just Doesn't Matter

It has been three weeks since I tried on my ballgown and discovered what I knew all along. My life of inertia had added some poundage to my body frame and the dress was pulling and tugging in places it shouldn't.

I haven't eaten after supper since that revelation. I have since realized how often I reach for food when all I am trying to do is simply stay awake.

I have become more wakeful by adding physical activities into my schedule. Keeping active has added some bounce back into my step. It has encouraged me to work during the day and keep my evenings free for my own pleasure. I  have stayed awake by being active. And ... (drum roll please ...), I have learned to simply go to bed when I am tired.

It's been three weeks. I decided to step on the scale this morning. Drum roll (again) ... ... ... little to no change. Maybe a pound or two - three, at most. My clothes are a little bit more comfortable, but really - there hasn't been a change.

And you know what? I'm okay with that. I'm not making lifestyle changes to lose weight.

I'm making them because I feel gross after I eat a bag of chips late at night (with a sugary sweet chaser to boot).

The physical exercise has released happy endorphins within. I am feeling a little bit bubbly once again.

I work during the day. The evenings are mine, to do as I please. I sleep when I'm tired. I'm awake before my alarm goes off. My life is feeling back in balance once again.

Three months ago, I wrote about the numbers on the bathroom scale and how meaningless they were. This time, I remember the before, after and goal numbers. And do you know what? I really don't care any more.

All I want is to live a balanced life. At the moment ... I am succeeding at that goal. And that is all that really matters.

It's Just a Number

Further to my post yesterday morning, I had yet another lapse of memory.

In the last few craze-filled weeks of over-doing, under-sleeping and forgetting to eat ... I started wondering if I lost any weight throughout that process. So I stepped on the scale.

What did I see when my weight appeared before me? I saw numbers. I couldn't remember the old number. I couldn't remember the goal weight. It was just a number.

A few days ago, I was lamenting about needing to lose weight. And someone asked me why I thought that. My immediate (and only) answer was because I needed to be able to fit into my new ballgown for our dance showcase in the fall.

I bought a beautiful, new ballgown while I was living my Great Dance Adventure. It fit like a glove. I was at an excitement-induced, forgetting-to-eat, all-time-low weight when I bought that dress. Lately, I haven't been able to wear the pants that I wore during that trip. So I am a little concerned. Will I ever be able to wear that dress again?

Other than that one reason, I am content with the weight that I am at. I am who I am and I'll buy clothes that fit (and hopefully flatter) the body that I have been given. I am not obsessing about my weight these days.

So when I stepped on the scale yesterday morning and looked down at those meaningless numbers ... I felt a little bit of deja vu. It was the same feeling that I had, when I walked out of the grocery store and had no memory of ever parking the car. I got where I wanted to be with no conscious effort. I'm at a weight that I'm content with. The numbers on the scale? Meaningless.

Does anyone want to buy a beautiful new ballgown??

Learning As I Go

This time last year, I was valiantly trying to introduce one good habit into my life each week.

It was small stuff - drink lots of water; stop buying chips; stop drinking pop; start exercising 20 minutes a day (then 40); start eating (mostly) whole wheat; and then the big one: stop eating after 7 pm.

That is where it stopped. The habit of eating after supper was the deal breaker for me. I was five weeks into my 'one good habit a week' program when I hit the wall. I stepped on the scale after five weeks of developing better habits ... and I had actually gained weight. More weight (after a very bad spree of gaining a pound per month).

So ... I went on a chocolate and chip binge like no other. I returned to my previous life where I ate what I wanted, when I wanted.

Then, in the spring I tried again.

I went on my food budget. I carefully tracked my food/calorie intake and worked hard to offset the calorie reduction with exercise. I thought that I had it licked. It was simple math. It was a budget! I've been budgeting for the entirety of my adult life. I could do that.

As it turned out ... I couldn't. I went into an exercise hyper drive mode just before a family gathering. I was still watching what I ate and exercising as much as I could find the time for. Add in a lack of sleep, an obsessive desire to be organized for company/a surprise party/a night away from home and my overly excitable tendencies ... and I could barely keep myself together the next day. I almost had a meltdown of major proportions in front of a group of family members.

I stopped the 'food budget'.

My latest binge of under eating, lack of sleep and high excitement levels was in November. The week prior to our dance showcase, I could feel it coming. The excitement, forgetting to eat and the inability to sleep. All was good and fine ... until it was over.

The above mentioned combination of lack of food and rest, added to my overly excitable state made for a very, very bad 'morning after'. An emotional hangover. It wasn't pretty.

Now ... here I am again. On the brink of yet another incredibly exciting event in my life - an upcoming holiday and dance competition. How am I going to learn from the past?

First of all, I started one new habit ... at least a month and a half ago. I stopped eating after supper. Period. Nothing more, nothing less. No snacking in the evenings. I quit cold turkey and it hasn't been that bad.

It is rather disheartening because the weight (obviously) isn't falling off of me just because I stopped noshing after my last meal of the day. But what is happening is better. I have lost a pound. Maybe two. And this is exactly how I gained my weight. A pound a month. It isn't rocket science ... but I believe this is the answer for me.

Secondly, I am doing my best to tend to all that must be tended in a relaxed fashion. I am not going to be running around like a crazy-person the week before this competition trying to do a million last minute things. Slow and steady. I don't want the crescendo ... because I don't need the crash that inevitably follows.

I love feeling excited about something. But I must temper it. A little.

What I am feeling at this moment is incredible. A little bit of happiness is right under my skin at all times. I can get lost for a moment in dealing with the daily rituals of life and then I'll think ... Montreal! One month from today! What will we be doing? The happy factor is alive and kicking. I love it.

While I'm at the competition, I will be sharing a room with someone who (from what I've seen) seems to be the essence of calmness. As long as I don't drive this person crazy with my energy, I think the calming factor will be exactly what I need.

We will be gone for six full days. Six days should give me the time to relax and savor the experience. I shouldn't feel the tendency to leap into that hyper drive state where I feel I must see, feel and experience it all ... because the moment is fleeting. Our dance showcases are like a wedding day. A lot of preparation and hype ... and it is over in one day. Six days will be wonderful. Time to experience everything to the fullest.

I've looked back on the year past and not made any resolutions. My goal is to learn from the past year and make the year ahead better.

No earth shattering revelations - I'm just learning as I go.

Weighty Issues

I was at my doctor's yesterday ... after all the fretting that I have been doing about my weight, I was told that I was half a pound less than I was 2 years ago. Less!?!? How could that be??

Well, it helped that I was 7 pounds heavier than I thought I was 2 years ago. That gave me a fair bit of leeway. Then, I came directly home and hopped on the scales I have. And they seem to be about 2 pounds heavier than those at the doctors office. And though, my 2 day fasting could only help matters ... I am feeling a lot better.

I never used to have scales. I went completely by the way I felt in my clothes and I never used to obsess about my weight. If my clothes felt tight, I adjusted my eating accordingly. Brainless, stressless and no 'numbers' weighing heavy on my mind.

Although those numbers truly did soar to new heights this past winter, it seems as though they have stabilized once again.

There is a calm within me these days. I'm not reaching for food every time I am feeling overloaded or bored. I still like to reward myself with food ... but lately, I've been too busy to dwell on that reward system.

Like anything, 'balance' is key. When life is in balance, food is not on my mind so much. When things falter and I'm reaching for food at every turn, maybe I should be looking within ... instead of obsessing about the weight.

It feels good to be 'back' to where I was before. The sad part is ... that maybe 'I was here' all along??

Feeling Lazy

I am not getting the feeling of accomplishment that I have become rather addicted to. I'm sitting here spinning my wheels ...

I have never seen the numbers on the scale so high before. The activities (or lack of) of late have not been good for my waistline!

What's that all about?!? I started exercising when I weighed less! And now I weigh more? What incentive is that? Sheesh!

So, I decided to sleep in (in lieu of exercising) the past few mornings. I feel better when I bounce out of bed in the morning with a purpose and a plan.

My appetite went crazy after I started exercising. My brain was in overdrive and one of the mom's that I babysit for says you eat more when you are using your brain more (she's a student, so she should know, right?). I'm frustrated.

"The Secret" says to just place an order for your ideal weight as if you were looking in a catalogue. Sounds kind of hokey, but you know what? Tonight as I sat and focused on the number on the scale that I would like to return back to, I curbed my snacking. I focused on the numbers I want to see on the scale. And recognized that I really was full. I just wanted to eat out of habit, out of comfort ... 'filling the void' again.

I feel lazy in every capacity. Fat and lazy to boot.

I'm 'ordering' my ideal weight. I think I need to order some direction back into my days so that I can have that feeling of accomplishment at the end of the day. I think I'm addicted to that feeling.

Feeling lazy is fun for a little while, but I don't want to stay here!