January 1: Here we go again. It’s that day when everybody makes New Year’s resolution. I’m not a snob, but I don’t make resolutions. I set goals, and my goal this year is to lose at least 120 pounds by December 31. It would be great if I lose more, but I will settle for 60 by my July 23 birthday and 60 more by Dec. 31.. My new eating habits of more vegetables, fewer carbs and meat the size of a deck of cards are going to work. To date I’ve lost fifty pounds and am struggling to keep losing. Losing weight is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. Losing weight is like going celibate when you’re single and surrounded by gorgeous hunks.
I’m
thinking that the weight has already melted off. I took a course in the
Dynamics of Goal Setting some years ago, and learned that you convince yourself
that it has already happened. That works because there’s none of these failure
thoughts to sabotage positive thinking. When New Year’s ends, I won’t be a pitfall
because belief is one-half of the proposition. If it’s already done, and you
believe, those old sabotages won’t have a place to fester. You’ll going full
bore with positive thinking and action. There’s nothing worse than telling
yourself, “I might as well have that chocolate pie because I’m never going to
lose this weight. Rather, I’d like to say, “I’m skipping the pie because it’s a
diarrhea culprit.
I
remember to put my goals in positive wording as I was taught in Self-Talk
seminars where we learned that thousands of negative thoughts go through our
minds and mouths every day, most of which were programmed since toddler hood.
That’s why goal setting is important, but I know if I don’t write those goals
properly, they are not likely to be successful. What’s written on paper is
written in my brain space. It’s more powerful to write positive stuff to knock
out that impromptu negative speak or thought. Off to a great year. I will
survive the weight war – if I live. And I will not toast the New Year with
champagne. Just kidding. I don’t drink alcohol.
My
goals for 2013 are the same as it was in 2008: Give up candy, especially
chocolate; cookies. Target emotional eating through meditation, recreational
and relaxation techniques, some of which I’ve written about in this journal.
Call a friend or my mother, the weight-loss guru that is never ever going to be
fat again. Not that she ever was from my perspective; she thought she was --
however. She used to binge on sugary stuff like me, but she says it made her
sick one time to many. And she doesn’t touch the poison. Give up overeating.
All I have to do is watch my husband who eats all the time but now he’s eating
regularly with more vegetables and fruits because of a long-standing bowel
disorder. It used to stuff me just to watch him. Now it would shame me to eat
more than he.
I’m
making good progress on the overeating part. My acid reflux is a big assist to
deny myself large portions of food. I have no need or will to get sick, so I
don’t overeat. I eat several small meals, vegetables, sweet baby carrots and
half a corn on the cob. That nasty bowel disorder that’s aggravated by rich,
chocolate, and other disagreeable food potions have forced me to choose between
feeling better and not letting unfulfilled writing hours be spent in the
bathroom because I chose to eat junk that’s killing me in too many ways.
I
will drink a lot of water – gallons a day. I am succeeding with this one. I
keep a bottle of water on my kitchen table at all times. That reminds me to drink
often.
Hypnotize Me, Please
January 2: I’d love to find another great hypnotist. When I lived
in South Florida, a seventy-year-old hypnotist gave me the suggestion to lose
weight. “You will eat only what you need to stay healthy. You will avoid all
sugary foods,” he said at the start of the hypnotism. I was programmed not to
eat fatty foods, to hate chocolate and other high-calorie goodies. The hypnosis
worked for six years. Forty pounds stayed off until depression struck me for
the first time. Then I started eating because I was depressed, eating because I
felt bad, and eating for whatever reason I dreamed up. And, of course,
chocolate reduced the depression. Now I choose anti-depressants though they’re
no cure-all when the stress and anxiety piles up, so meditation works. Mantra:
“I’ll remain calm and relaxed at all times.” Or when I’m doing self-hypnosis
for weight loss, I use this one. “I will eat only what makes me healthy. I will
skip the sugary shit because it’ll mess up my bowels.”
Fat’s
Never Funny
January 3: I hate fat jokes – mostly. Monique, a comedian of the
full figure persuasion, made fortune trumpeting fat girls because she lost
weight and got greater fame.. She even had a beauty contest for these ladies.
She is funny and I don’t know whether people laugh just because she is funny,
because she's making a difference in the fat war, or because people enjoy
laughing at fat people. I know people laugh at fat folk; that’s for sure. Every
time I see Monique on television I feel proud that she is not promoting
thinness, so I’m conflicted about the issues, and I know that obesity kills.
(And I wanted to be around for my child) In those fat days of hers, we were of
similar size, which is why I took no pleasure in getting sucked too deeply into
Monique’s brand of comedy. But the woman is good, and I love comedy so it’s
hard to resist her jokes. I get belly-aching laughter from her fat jokes – my
own shame. Then I feel guilty. I just wish I could be as blithe as she about
being fat. Bless her heart, but I am high risk for a stroke and a heart attack,
and I nearly died from a massive blood clot surrounded by multiple smaller
clots on April 19, 2012. I have to keep working to get off the weight, or I
won’t live to laugh at any body’s jokes. I love comedy, too. My goal of three
laughs a day is going well except on day when I’m severely depressed. Laughter
beats feeding chocolate to a bad stomach reaching to irritable bowels.
I
never thought it was funny being fat even when I was much thinner. I’m like my
daughter; I don’t even care to see movies that belittle heavy people: Martin
Lawrence and Eddie Murphy movies. My husband sits there and cracks up when they
dress up as morbidly obese women in their comedies, but I’m an old grouch. I remember when Rosie O’Donnell referred to
Star Jones as a fatty, even though Star had lost all that excess fat. This kind
of ridicule stopped me from eating in public. When I was much younger I didn’t
eat large portions of food in public because I imagined people saying, “That’s
why she’s so fat.” At home my brothers used to tease me to get the extra
biscuit off my plate. I cried back then, but it’s too bad they couldn’t have
spied on me and deterred me forever.
The
Poetry Pick Up
January 4: Today is poetry day, and I’m writing my heart out,
turning out the worse stuff imaginable. I’m being facetious. It isn’t stellar
verse right now because it must go through ninety thousand revisions. I’m being
facetious again. But many revisions must be done before my poetry is finished.
When I tire of writing, I grab a stack of poetry books by other writers and
read. I started with Robert Hayden, a 20th century African-American
poet first. Then it was on to Gwendolyn Brooks, Maya Angelou, Adrienne Rich,
Audre Lorde, and Edna St. Vincent Millay.
Poetry is like
reading a postcard on living, and it is as beautiful as relics in a museum. It
makes fireworks go off. It’s like a cookie cutter at Christmas, and it ushers
in feelings of nature, love, freedom, family, faith, dreams, and courage. Poems
make me laugh or weep. One of the biggest problems with poetry is that much of
it doesn’t deal with the ugly side of life, although that is bountiful. That
voice appears to be stifled, or it’s gone underground. I read somewhere that tears
have tears and poems wipe them off, but if the bad things don’t exist, why the
tears? Ugly disappeared without a whimper. Such a pity there is no ugly in most
poetry because that would bring the whole truth in a world full of ugliness.
There is no beauty without ugly, and I remember that when I write poems because
that adds more beauty to poetic life.
My evening is so
full I had no time to think about food. When I finished my readings, I again
took pen in hand and penned my own poems – one about prison and the other about
Heaven, the ugly and the beautiful.
Eating
Biblical Words
January 5: Bible reading night. I love to read the Bible; my mother
and grandmother instilled that in me. My grandmother used to sit on her front
porch until the mosquitoes called, and then she’d slip inside for an evening of
scripture reading. My mother reads the Bible every day, too, and has since I
was a child. I read for spiritual reasons, but I also read for abstinence,
abstinence from fattening foods.
My favorite chapter
is Psalms, and there are verses that I know verbatim. Psalms 23rd,
69, 70, 71, & 23rd. When I’m done with Psalms, I go on to
Proverbs – most chapters there I read are about women. I’ve often heard women
complain about all of the negative things in the Bible about women. Well, I’ve
found that Proverbs 3:15 ,
8:1 and 14:1 are positive things about women. “She is more precious than
rubies: and all the things thou cannot desire are to be compared to her”
(Proverbs 3:15 )
The
Winner Is Omission
January 6: The Great Omission: I’m now obsessed with the loss of
chocolate. The more I think about it, the more desperate I become. I panic
because I’m not sure I’ll succeed in quitting this poison. I think about it all
the time. Will I be able to rid it from my system, take its sweet taste from my
lips, and smother its alluring aroma.
Well,
there’s that sugar-free chocolate and other sugar-free products that give you
diarrhea if you eat too much. If you binge on regular chocolate or sweets, how
in the world can you avoid doing it with these chemically sweetened things.
Besides, I’m not enamored about spending an evening in the bathroom because of
love for a sinful indulgence.
We’ll
see how long it takes to recover from chocolate addiction. It’s only one I have
left. It’s been my favorite binge food for decades with a three-year hiatus.
Before then I ate it on and off. I dread this transformation. It hurts already.
Hold that Brownie.
Will
Power Isn’t at Fault
January 7: Will power: I don’t know about anybody else, but this
big word isn’t the most important to an emotional eater. Getting rid of the bad
emotion is more important because of psychological needs trump this thing
called will power. Today, I admitted that I was in charge of what I eat. I
admit that I have the power to choose what I eat as long as my emotions are in
check. I have an emergency need to keep my emotions balanced because I’m not
willing to die from overeating. I’m counting on my anti-depressants to work
over time.
Bleakness
Bites My Butt
January 8: The world looks bleak to me. I didn’t feel like getting
up, showering, eating, or writing. My pain is kicking my butt, and I’m
struggling not to become an addict, or else I’d take a ton of pain medication.
The worst part about this is that you build up a tolerance, and it takes
increasingly more to keep the pain under control. My doctor says she doesn’t
want to make a drug addict out of me. I don’t want to be one either. I think
about conservative talk show host Russ Limbaugh and Green Bay Packer great
Brett Favre and millions of others who find themselves hooked on legal drugs
for uncontrollable pain. Regardless of all this, pain makes it harder for me to
walk and function normally as all those people I see walking in parking lots at
grocery stores while I sit in the car waiting for my husband to shop. Pain
makes my emotions get out of control, and it raises my frustration as I
struggle with pain and bingeing because of that and emotional issues.
Rejections
Are Beneficial
January 9: The rejection letters have stopped, and I’m
disappointed. I’m lonely without having those letters telling me that I don’t
have what publishers or agents are looking for. The more they reject my work,
the more convinced I am that readers would benefit from it. Poetry publishers
have often been unable to articulate what they want or need, but they say this:
“We know it when we see it.” Reading and writing poems, for me, are like eating
a gallon of French Vanilla ice cream. I’ve often thought that other heavy people
could get into poetry reading, and I truly believe it would distract them from
eating junk between meals. Feasting on poetry is like bitting into a Godiva
chocolate bar, the richest that I’ve ever tasted, and sitting in a
purple-watered Jacuzzi. Or how about consuming love poems and love stories – an
antidote for readers who crave mood food. Love or myself – that’s what weight
loss is all about. Some of love stories and poems weigh in on weight loss
issues – some of which I journal. A lifetime of weight roll over from fat to
thin and from fat to obese is a “tough row to hoe,” as Southern farmers used to
say.
Depression
Beats Me
January 10: I admit that I am powerful over my choice of food: For
the next thirty days, I am going to use some repetition therapy to drill one
point into my head. I must believe it to accept it as gospel and worthy.
I
was so depressed that I went to bed with Poets and Writers to keep from crying
all day. It was an awful day partly because I had been off anti-depressants for
two weeks. I gave my medication money to my daughter to keep her from getting
kicked out doors. Actually, I was short of the med money, so I figured why not.
Ordinarily, I would’ve borrowed enough to make up the difference.
A
Scary Day at the Hospital
January 11: I admit that I’m powerful over my choice of food. I am
powerful over my choice of food. I AM powerful over my choice of food. Yes, I
am going to wrap my head around this. Writing gives me the tool.
For
over a week, I was nerved out over that planned trip to the hospital to have an
upper GI endoscopy, meaning they put a camera down the esophagus to view the
gastrointestinal system. In my case, the doctor wanted to look at a benign
growth or polyp, as they call it. He wanted to see if it had grown any since
August. I was unnerved because I hadn’t forgotten the pain of the previous
procedure, and I hadn’t forgotten the three days of not being able to swallow
without pain.
At
the hospital, I was so nervous that I could barely answer the medical or medication
question. At times I zoned out, and they had to ask the same questions more
than once. “Are you all right? You look as if you’ve gone into another world,”
the one nurse said. She was right. I was trying to put myself in a comfort zone
so I wouldn’t think about the misery I’d soon be under. As it turned out, the
doctor decided that I needed more anesthesia so I wouldn’t wake up in the
middle of the procedure as I had previously. This time I slept right through
it. But the worst was yet to come.
I
forced myself to eat small pieces of chicken and to drink apple juice that
night. Boy, did it hurt my throat. I then gargled with tepid salt water and
drank nearly hot tea for most of the evening. Nothing worked. In the middle of
the night, I got up to gargle often. The upshot of the ordeal was that I wasn’t
able to eat too many calories. I had completely lost my appetite.
He
said I would have to repeat the test in a year. Since my regular doctor, he,
and another GI guy agreed that I shouldn’t have surgery unless it was a matter
of life and death, they decided that they should simply monitor the polyp. They
wanted to make sure it didn’t get any bigger. I wanted it out because I was
already tired of fighting that along with the gastric reflux that keeps me from
eating normal foods. At that time most fruits and some vegetables I couldn’t
tolerate. That wreaks havoc on my food maintenance program because I generally
substitute fruit for those high caloric sweets that I binge on when I’m
depressed. Luckily, I had no comfort foods in the house, or I might’ve blown it
and binged to feel better. Depression and binge eating stymie eating right and
keeping food consumption in check. That’s probably why depression and bioplar –
the twin affliction of depression and mania – are reportedly contributing to
the obesity crisis in America
Toleration
is a Friend
January 12: I admit that I’m powerful over my choice of food.
Today, I ate a bowl of soup and a bagel. That’s all I could tolerate. Not good
eating for a person on a food maintenance program. I’m not hungry because my
throat is still killing me. It’s a shame that it takes away my appetite. On the
other hand, I’m not unhappy about it. At least, I won’t gain any weight this week.
Power
Is Everything
January 13: I admit that I’m powerful
over my choice of food. Today is a good day because I ate sensible with my
meat, vegetable, starch, and fruit. I didn’t even crave dessert. I didn’t even
have a depressed moments either.
Good News? Really?
January 14: I admit that I’m powerful over my choice of food. I’ve
done very well by eating right and not bingeing on any bad foods. I deserve to
pat myself on the back.
January 15: I admit that I’m powerful over my choice of food. I’ve
done a poor job today because I ate two muffins at dinner and some Doritos. I
thought I would die when guilt was painted like brown on Uncle Ben’s. I promise
to redeem myself tomorrow. When I go to that doctor, if I’ve gained I’m going
to shoot myself. If I lose, I’m going to shout.
I
joined Diettalk chat room today for much-needed support with my insidious
problem. I’m not doing too well. It’s a lonely world out here, and I’m not
mobile enough to join an away weight loss program. So I’m going to rely on the
internet for support. It will be good to learn if they struggle as much as me.
I feel so bad because I cannot seem to work this bingeing thing out. I went to
a therapist once, and the first thing out of her mouth was, “Have you tried
Weight Watchers?” Yes, but it didn’t stop me from cheating and bingeing. It’s
an emotional eating problem, and I’m fighting it with all I’ve got. I’m going
to lick this problem before this year is out. Watch me.
A
Backward Dilemma
January 16: I admit that I’m powerful over my choice of food. I
went to the doctor today and found out I had lost five pounds. What a victory?
And I went and ruined it by buying and eating two large scoops of chocolate ice
cream. I told myself that I deserved a reward for working so hard. It was the
stinking thinking. My brain must be on crack. It acts like it anyway though
I’ve never even tried marijuana let alone crack.
I
didn’t take time to shout because I was busy buying ice cream. My husband was
with me, but he never said a word. He’s not the type to chastise me or even to
gently nudge me. Sometimes, he’s part of the problem because he’s always
tempting me by eating bad foods himself. I used to eat almost as much as he
eats, but I’ve progressed to eating a third of what I used to eat. Thanks God
for that. I’m pleased with myself, although I still mess up sometimes.
I’m
not going to mess around anymore. I will not buy any poison at the grocery
store or anywhere else. I promise.
Words
for Weight War
January 17: Write myself thin. It’s been twenty-seven years, and
I’m still fat. It’s not from a lack of trying. I am motivated to eat right, but
the exercising is a huge problem because of my arthritis knees and all over
pain in my body. My knees kill me from just walking. Doc wants me to bear the
pain, but I’m sick of being fat, which means that I want pain pills to help me
feel better. That would allow me to get in some exercise time. Before my pain
increased, I used to walk a lot and did floor exercises. Now my knee joints
move around involuntarily. She says it is excess water and inflammation. I
don’t care what it’s called as long as I am rid of this excruciating pain. I
also can feel it moving in abnormal ways when I bend or exercise. It’s the
strangest. The doctor says it is water on my knee and inflammation that causes
it. Water exercises would help if I could afford to pay for pool use, and if I
wasn’t embarrassed to wear a bathing suit out there with all those thin women.
I’m grateful to God that things are no worse than they are.
That
Swift Kick Is Great
January 18: A horrific cold is kicking my butt. One good thing
about it is that I’ve lost my appetite. That’s good and bad. It’s bad because I
need nutrition to live and fight a cold. It’s bad because I’m a diabetic and I
have to eat and take insulin. It’s good because I don’t have to fight the urge
to keep bad food poundage off my behind. I’m
writing myself thin. The more I write, the more I realize what I’m doing wrong.
Writing makes me focus on the right things and provides with solutions to this
madness. Some days, I have to write in a notebook because I don’t feel well
enough to get on the computer. But I write, nevertheless.
Hanging
Out with Fruits and Veggies
January 19: The month is over half gone, and I’m still struggling
with my eating patterns. Eat four small meals a day. That is difficult because
we don’t cook more than once a day. It takes some sharp planning to make those
small meals available. I’m doing better with desert and between meal snacks.
Eat fruit for dessert. Eat carrots and celery for between meal snacks. They are
my friends, and I’d better hold that thought.
Feeling
Purple Is Hell
January 20: I will forge ahead with my eating pattern. I will
follow the ritual to the end. Struggle should never be part of a weight loss
program. But we are human, and we’re likely to step outside of the program
parameters. That would be bad news. As I’ve said before, the emotional eating
program is a bigger issue than will power. I truly believe that. And to prove
it to myself, I kept a journal of how will power worked when I was not having
emotional blows in my life. During emotional lows, will power went right out
the window. I couldn’t believe it at first, so I continued testing myself until
it made me a believer. Now I know how to be extra cautious when I am feeling a
little purple. I make sure there are no guilt foods around the house. If my
husband brings them in, I keep preoccupied so that I’m not tempted. It’s the Brownies
and the potato chips that are his favorite comfort foods. Mine is chocolate ice
cream, but he won’t bring that in because he doesn’t like ice cream in the
winter time. Me? I can eat it for breakfast, lunch, dinner in fall, spring,
summer, and winter. That’s dangerous stuff.
Limitations
Don’t Rule Self-Confidence
January 20: Today, I have to deal with self-confidence. I try hard
to always feel good about myself and to have confidence in what I can do.
That’s tough because there are so many limitations on what I can achieve in my
life now. With health problems, we have to have confidence that we are doing
the best we can. That’s a sharp difference in what had occurred in my younger
years. I didn’t have to put parameters on what to believe about myself. I have
to remind myself that I can only credit myself with what I can do and not what
I wish I could still do.
Traveling
Toes Are Spiritual Ones
January 21: It isn’t about will power; it’s about inspirational
power. I reach deep inside myself to bring out my inner spirit to inspire me to
eat what’s good for me. I’m not worried about how much will power I have. I
know that inspiration and spirituality will get me through the day. I dream of
being a thinner woman. I must get there before I die. This life is bitter with
all the pounds weighing me down. Why, oh, why did I eat so much. I’m looking at
a baby on TV and I wonder if weight will become a problem for him before he’s
an adult. I had a weight problem long before I became an adult, and I knows I
didn’t decide to eat myself fat. The world wasn’t built in a day, and losing
weight takes more time than I have left. I think that every day, hoping that it
will rev up my spirit to work harder and to yield not to temptation less.
Spirituality
Brings Solace
January 22: I don’t weigh myself until I go to the doctor, which is
about every two or three months. Then I can pretend that I’m not gaining weight
and be surprised when I learn that I’ve lost, and I scream if I’ve gained. If I
weighed every week, I might get too frustrated about a lack of loss and eat
more because of it. I’ve gone through December with a ten pound weight gain,
and I had Christmas and New Year’s. It’s time to weigh in to determine if I
really have lost. If I’ve gained, I don’t know what I’ll do next. Cry. Beat
myself up. Scream. Jump right back into to the weight program, and call on my
spiritual self to bring me solace.
Fat
Didn’t Jump Up and Bite Me
January 23: I know I must be patient with myself because fat didn’t
show up in a flash. There are years of layers stuck on my body, and it may take
a year to get some of it off. I dream that it would all melt off in a year, and
I pray it does now that I am trying harder. My exercise program is lagging
behind my eating because pain in my knees and back worsen when I walk. The most
I can do is floor exercises, and that doesn’t get my heart rate up enough.
Maybe when I lose more weight, I’ll have less pressure on my joints and my
back. Then exercise won’t be as painful. I can only hope.
Brownie’s
Trap is Rotten
January 24: I’m not crying in my milk. I am going to laugh all the
way to those scales at my doctor’s office. That’s what I thought until I
realized that I had laughed too soon. The scale showed a no-gain, and I was
broken. That was the absolute worst thing that could happen aside from having
gained a pound or more. I’ve eaten too many Brownies. But I am counting the
days that I’ve beaten the Brownie urge. I love myself when I’m losing, and I
hate my ass when I’m gaining.
Too
Bad Birds Don’t Talk
January 25: I saw a redbird today, and it was the first time in
twenty years that I’d seen one. He was gorgeous. He represents the freedom I
will feel when I’ve lost all of the excess weight. When I’m done, I’ll remember
him. The bird represents my native state of North Carolina Wisconsin
I
tried to imagine what he might’ve said to me. Would he say, “You’re fat,” like
little kids do. Or would he have cheered for me because I’ve tried so hard. I
write this willfully, and I appear naked in my thoughts. Whether it makes sense
or not depends, I’m not entirely sure at this moment of weakness.
Feeling
Good is a Good Thing
January 26: I’m feeling good about myself. My self-confidence is at
an all-time high today. It is time for all good dieters to jump up and shout
not just for the pounds, but for the concerted effort. I’m celebrating the
change of my eating pattern for eating is important to achieve the ultimate
prize. I see me as a thin person already.
I
want to live high on the mountain with all those thin people dancing around.
When I pull this off, it’ll be the greatest thing I’ve ever done. Whoopie. I’m
not about to lose anything but fat.
Rip
Van Winkle Didn’t Get Fat
January 27: Time stood still while I gained weight, it seemed. I
know it didn’t but why wasn’t I looking? We all know how important an additional
pound is to a heavy person. Every pound is like fifty pounds because if we live
long enough we’ll get there. The years past, and the pounds accumulate. It’s as
if we were Rip Van Winkle, and we gained weight while we slept. Actually, we
eat through the years, and the pounds climb minute by minute, hour by hour, day
by day, month by month, and year by year. When we arrive at our current weight,
we’re shocked. I’ve always been surprised with every new pound as if I’d been
eating carrots and celery all the time.
Boobs,
Please Don’t Go
January 28: I stare in the mirror at my breasts and wonder what
size they’ll be when I’m thinner. Will I go from a “D” cup to a “C” cup, or
will I remain a “D” cup, which I’ve worn for more than twenty years. One time Oprah
did a bra fitting show, and I went out and bought a “DD” cup and it fit well. I
refused to wear it, and kept wearing my “D” cup because it felt comfortable
enough. I just couldn’t bear the thought of walking around with “DD” boobs. Now
I can’t imagine being a “C” cup but I would not hesitate to put one on and
smile. But deep down inside, I’d rather keep them big.
Old
Clothes an Inspiration
January 29: Those old clothes in my closet are still new because
they’ve had so little wearing time. Shortly after renewing my wardrobe years
ago, I had a rapid weight gain from drinking and eating too much rich food
while partying with my husband to be. I gained forty pounds in six months but
refused to let go of the clothes. I bought clothes until I could no longer
afford them. Then I went to stretch pants and sweat shirts.
Once I went to a
woman’s seminar where the speaker said we should get rid of those old clothes
because they’d never fit again. “Get rid of those old clothes; you’ll never be
that size again,” she said. Oh, hell no. I’m never going to concede that.
Getting rid of those clothes would be like giving up on my biggest hurdle.
My
daughter said these clothes will be out of style by the time I lose the weight.
Not hardly. Every outfit in my closet looks like something I’ve seen people
wear now. I never bought clothes based on fads. To prove my point about the
clothes not going out of style, I’ve worn old outfits and have had people
compliment me on them. Sometimes they even ask where I bought them from. That’s
tacky to ask, but I’m happy to answer that I’ve had it for years.
Hell
no. I’m keeping my old clothes because I will wear them again. In fact, I have
a brand new outfit that I’ve never worn. I bought it too small several years
ago to motivate and inspire me. I’m going to wear that nice periwinkle dress
with the long jacket before the year is out. I promise you, dear journal.
Reminder
of Thinner Days
January 30: How did I wind up here: Sometimes. I look in the mirror
and think the fat came while I slept. I can barely remember thinner days. Every
new year I’ve told the same lie. “I’m going to get fit this year.” Well, this
time I already see myself as thin. “You have to see it to believe it to achieve
it,” as some wise person said. I am now setting a goal of eight pounds a
month.
Healthy through Words
January 31: The month ends with improvement. I’ve not eaten any
Brownies since New Year’s Day. I’m following a good-eating routine, and have
not overeaten or binged all month. I stay busy writing, reading, sitting with a
heating pad to keep the pain down, or I meditate. I’m not big on cleaning
because it’s difficult for me.
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