Weight-Loss Adventures (No. 2)
Mitchell and I are diligently plugging away at our fitness goals; and yesterday, we re-visited our previous hiking spot.
Mitch had me take a picture of the park’s all-encompassing map of various trails, and made sure that I understood which arrows meant what.
Confident in my ability to send a GPS ping (should I again find myself lost), we set out to the beat of our own drums. (For me, this is a literal statement. I pump up the volume on my tunes, and my feet tend to pace to the beat.)
I managed to hike 2.82 miles without getting lost; and it felt fantastic! So fantastic, in fact, that I fully expected to look down and find my doughy Pillsbury tummy gone… but, the chub is more stubborn than I can fathom; and is holding on. 😂
Fat aside, the exercise has been good for me — my coordination is improving; my mood is bettering; my self-confidence is rising (albeit, at infinitesimal increments); and Mitchell claims that I look thinner. (Bless his heart, I’m trying really hard to take his word for it.)
The single disappointment in all of this is that the only piece of clothing that feels significantly looser is my sports bra.
Formerly dubbed a member of the “itty bitty titty committee” (by mean girls, in my younger years), I have grown quite fond of my big-gal boobs. (I’ve managed to grow from an A to a D-cup.) I was hoping the gals would stick around — while other fatty bits melted away — but the weight-loss Gods seem to be testing the resiliency of my fitness spirit. And to that I say, F*ck it! Boobs or no boobs, I shall persevere!
The Tough, Delicious Stuff
I have not — as of yet — been able to curb my sugar dependency, which grew in leaps and bounds when I entered sobriety. (Alcohol turns to sugar in the body… so in recovery, sugar itself can manifest into another addiction.)
Mitchell has been really good about preparing healthy meals; but at the end of those meals, I demand dessert.
I also battle with midnight munchies (a side-effect of sleep-inducing medications that has been lessened, but not obliterated, by switching meds). I really need to go to bed when the urge to eat begins to strike… and never, ever do. (In fact, I often fall asleep while consuming candy — and wake up the next morning to ridiculous evidence of sugar destruction all over the recliner.)
And then! There’s the holidays. A damn-near impossible time to kick a sugar habit. (Especially when your niece makes awe-mazing wedding cookies… so good! And Christmas Candy gets marked down by 50%… goddam retail devils!) So… Mitch and I made a mutual decision not to fight our sweeter cravings until the clock strikes 12 a.m. on January 1st. (Please wish me luck in this endeavor. I guarantee, I’m gon’na need it. 🤦🏻♀️)
The last battle in the war against bad habits will take place on a lush field of tobacco plants, promising the sweet nectar of a nicotine rush. (God, help me.)
I switched from cigarettes to vaping about four years ago, and just haven’t kicked the habit. (I gave up narcotics, alcohol, and other pleasures of the flesh — no one was taking my nicotine!)
It’s time. I have about 100 mils left on my last e-juice purchase; and I better make it count! (And really, there are no concrete promises here — just a strong desire to leave this last addiction behind, and the the hope that I can.)
What does 2021 look like in your dreams?