Ah, confession time. It's fall and I'm looking forward to new beginnings. That's not my confession; my confession is that I've realized it takes me a lot longer to accept change and to adapt despite my belief that I am open-minded and flexible. Clearly I'm not as much of either as I thought. I've been angry and sad for awhile because of some very difficult changes in my life this year. I became so fixated on what I no longer had and what I could no longer do that I failed to put my energy into what I could do and on what I do have. Well, I've finally got off the pity pot. I was seriously at risk for getting sores from sitting so long.
As some of you know, despite my lack, I was light when it came to pounds and the extra weight was increasing my risk for my family history of diabetes, high blood pressure and heart disease. I've lost twenty pounds. Yay, me. However, the reality is I have twenty more to go. At the moment all I'm losing is stamina not so much that I'm no longer watching what I eat, but I've hit a plateau. I don't have the same enthusiasm. Frankly, I don't want to plan my meals and count points (Weight Watchers system instead of counting calories) but I have too if I want my weight loss to continue a downward spiral. The upside is I now have a wardrobe I can actually wear instead of just staring at.
Lastly, staring at my slimmer, naked self in the mirror this morning, I conceded my boobs are heading south. I felt a tinge of guilt and regret. I'm the only woman in my family who actually has a sizable pair and I failed to harness and care for my girls. I was alternately too lazy or too cheap to get fitted for a good bra. I wonder if I have time to slow down the descent.