Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt
I am so tempted to write about politics. This prompt couldn’t be more appropriate. Today is Primary Day in Pennsylvania, and I just got back from voting. And by the way, in the 50 or so years I’ve been voting, I don’t remember an uglier or more acrimonious primary season. Here in the Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave, we could use a bit more common courtesy.
However, I’m in no mood to start an ugly controversy, so I think I’ll go in a different, more personal direction.
I am at a crossroads. I can continue to sloooooooowly lose the weight that has accompanied most of my adult life. I’ve lost 17 pounds to date, which is minimal compared to what I need to lose. It’s taken me a very long time. Part of the reason for that is that my back went wonky on me again, and I haven’t been able to exercise. I’ll be back in the pool on Friday, I hope. The winter has been very hard on me. I’ve gone from one upper respiratory infection to another, feeling just miserable a lot of the time. And now, in this utterly beautiful season with all the flowering trees and grass growing like crazy, my allergies are really kicking up. I sound like Jeremiah the Bullfrog. Croak, croak. I’m not sick, so I can only assume it must be allergies.
OR. Or, I can keep nibbling away (probably not the best word-choice) as I have been, counting carbs and getting back into an exercise routine to help burn the blubber.
Well, you may say, that’s not so hard. Just Do It!
If you think that, you haven’t been paying attention. This is not my first go-round with fat, and I’m sure it will plague me to my coffin. In heaven, I want a size 0 robe!
So what are my excuses?
- My gene pool. Ask any of my cousins. They’ll tell you.
- My slow metabolism. I’ve tried every “speed-it-up” diet out there, and I say NO MORE!
- My distaste for physical activity that makes me sweat and hurt. I know, I know. No pain, no gain. You enjoy yourself if that’s what rings your bell. I’ll swim. It’s better for my back, anyway.
- My height. Or lack thereof. I’m not overweight. I’m underheight. Not even five feet tall these days. I used to be 5′ 1.25″ and now I can claim a full 4’11.” It’s just wrong.
And if you don’t think it’s a pain to be so short, just try buying pantyhose that fit a short, heavy woman with stumps for legs. Yeah. Don’t even talk to me about “short and cute.” I’d rather be tall and dignified and not have my pantyhose make my legs look like the saggy baggy elephant.
Please don’t respond with all the cool places you’ve found pantyhose that fit. I have found a good source. Finally.
Anyway, at this point I’m choosing to stay in the battle. I got my A1C results back down into the 6 range. Those of you who battle Type II diabetes know what that’s all about. My doctor is happy with that. So am I. It’s a validation of my change of diet, even though the weight isn’t coming off the way I’d like.
So. There’s my personal angst. My personal crossroad. My personal choice. Even if I never lose another pound, I know I’m eating better, and I can be okay with that. I think.
By the way, did you know that Atkins is making these wonderful little dark chocolate pieces about one inch square, filled with either raspberry or fudge? Really good, and they satisfy my sweet tooth without piling on the carbs. Nice.