I couldn't avoid it. I tried. I was in serious denial, because the Lord had blessed me with my Dad's metabolism my whole life and I never looked my age. Really. When I was 14, I looked 20. When I was 45, I looked 35. Just never had it right! But...my weight was never completely out of control.
Yes, I swayed up and down the scale five or so pounds, without question. I gained 40 pounds with each child, but successfully used the Weight Watcher program to take it off each time. I was even considered TOO skinny at one point, when I was trying unsuccessfully to get pregnant with my second daughter. Allowed a few pounds to creep on and BOOM. Baby number two.
So, I was pretty sure I knew my body well and what I needed to do to keep things status quo. I had a few challenges in my forties, including having my two sons at ages 40 and 42, being diagnosed with an autoimmune disease at 44 which sapped all my energy and needing a lumbar spinal fusion at 48 to stabilize a wandering vertebrae (which also took running and most activities out of my life forever).
Nevertheless, I was determined to be "me", regardless of the challenges. I dieted when I needed to and TRIED to stay as active as possible-yoga, walking, whatever.
I managed until I turned 50. Then something totally unexpected and horrific happened. The number on my scale just starting mystically rising on its own. I'm not kidding. I've been weighing myself my whole life. I know a few pounds up and down every month is normal. I'm good with that. Since I'm still "regular as rain" in the monthly cycle department (can you freaking BELIEVE this at 52?!?!)...I still have the waxing and waning poundage and I understand that. This was NOT that.
Every day, every week, it just went up. For no apparent reason. Okay, I'd have a little holiday weight. I get that. But I would get that to come off...and it would return in the off season. And up. And up. I saw numbers I hadn't seen since I was postpartum. I passed the number I reached when I gained my famous "Freshman 10" in college and swelled up like a tick.
And I kept going.
We all have a certain "decade" of weight we live in. You know, the 120s, the 130s, 140s, 150s, etc. After things settle down after high school, we know what "decade" we are in. We learn to accept who we are, make peace with our butt or thighs or waist and love ourselves. This is what the 40s is all about. I had learned to change what I could and accept the rest.
Then all that acceptance got shot to shreds. Every day my weight climbs. I visit my regular doctor and my rheumatologist along the way and all things are normal and my bloodwork shows I'm doing well...except on the weight charts. So I stop going back.
I leave my familiar weight "decade" and start living in the next one. Okay, deep breath. My clothes are a little tight, but I'll manage. I've been lucky so far, I'll just deal.
Then I leave the "deal decade" behind. Now I'm in the "YOU'VE GOT TO BE KIDDING" decade of my scale. This is impossible. I can't be this number. I'M THE SAME PERSON! I'M NOT DOING THAT MUCH DIFFERENTLY! When I manage to take off a few pounds, it climbs...right...back...on. I'm now up 15 pounds from my normal weight. My sanity is starting to suffer.
My clothes are no longer tight. They no longer fit. My "fat" clothes are now my ONLY clothes. I actually need to buy new pants in a larger size. Permanently. I'm never going back down, I can see that now. After two years of trying very hard..and sometimes not so hard...I realize my body is not my own anymore. It belongs to another stage of life.
Then I start to do some research and realize that I am fighting a losing battle. I am now solidly into my 50s...and that means things are going to change - and change drastically.
I've fought my age for the last couple of decades and been pretty successful up until now, but this is nature and it's relentless and ruthless. I am young...but young-old, not young-young. My body is going through changes that are inevitable and I need to start embracing what I am becoming and stop looking backward. Start enjoying the relief that comes when the pressure disappears to compete with other parents in my neighborhood who are more than a decade younger. Start relaxing at the beach and enjoying my time in the sand and surf...and stop worrying about holding my stomach in. Start enjoying the flavor of food and the joy of cooking without worrying about the calories.
I've always heard that menopause was a "reverse puberty" time of life and looked forward to that. I've wanted to become the "me" I was before hormones took over my life in more ways than I can count. And now is the time - the time to relax and be me. Even though it means saying goodbye to my waist. I hope it is worth it :)
Tuesday, September 24, 2013
Friday, March 15, 2013
Excuse me while I rant....
First of all, let me make this very clear that this posting is a rant. This is just advance warning to anyone who is in a wonderful, mellow, "let's drink green tea and chant" sort of mood - get out now. Quickly. I am having a menopausal meltdown day and all my frustration has to come out somewhere - so here we go!!
Today, I woke up to an impossibility. I GAINED weight overnight. Now, let me explain why this is SUPPOSED to be an impossibility. We lose weight at night. Documented fact. A fact I rely upon - heavily - especially the night before weigh-in at Weight Watchers. I did eat a heavy snack before dinner time, so I skipped dinner. No, I didn't eat too few calories. Trust me. AND I worked out at the gym yesterday. And slept a full night. So I happily tripped to the scale this morning thinking I'd have a mental "pat on the back" - and got biotch-slapped hard in the rump.
For a woman of my well-ripened years, there are few joys we can still count on and knowing we will step on the scale lighter in the morning is one of them. AND IT WAS TAKEN AWAY TODAY! Argh. Threw my whole day off. Started me on the road of thinking "why did this happen", which when you are 51 is NOT a safe road to travel.
I found lots of articles explaining why weight gain, especially around the waistline (my personal hell), is almost universal with women at this age. I read the normal "less calories, more exercise" articles. Then I started reading more horrific research findings, such as:
1. Women lose the urge to be active as they get older. This was tied into research that "less estrogen = less urge to move". (Ask any woman with a couch potato estrogen-free husband and they'll probably agree :). Personally, I know this is true. I NEEDED to move and do things when I was younger. Now I daydream about the end of the day when I can just REST.
2. Weight loss equals no more desserts - ever. Women with the most successful long-term weight loss/stability gave up sweets, desserts and sugar drinks. Permanently. I have three weddings to go to this year. Kill me now.
3. Older women have a lower resting metabolism. Meaning when I was younger, I was even burning more calories doing NOTHING. I'm so screwed here....
This age would be hard on me, anyway. I've never had a "real" problem with my weight and was always able to get back to Weight Watchers, knuckle down, do a few more Jazzercise classes and I'd feel okay. Maybe I never was runway-ready, but I was okay. Now..I..am...not..okay. Because to complete today's rant, I always throw myself a little pity party right about this time. As if it isn't hard enough to fight Mother Nature and try to hang onto my body at an impossible time, I get to add the lovely complications of an autoimmune disease that fights me every time I work out a "wee bit" more than a little - and a backbone that is held together by screws and wires. I don't move as well as I used to. Parts of my right leg are numb as a result and will never get their feeling back - hence my lovely lack of balance (which makes my favorite form of exercise - dancing - sort of a non-contender at this point). And while I'm trying to regain the muscle mass I've lost over these last couple years since I had surgery, I have to worry that straining my back too hard recuperating will blow out the adjacent vertebrae in my back - a very real and VERY common occurrence after a spinal fusion like mine.
So, there it is. My rant, my frustration, my personal day of hell. Now, to be honest, this only happens once a month or so (wink) and I have wonderful friends who are going through health issues that make this sound superficial and vain, but so be it.
What happened to the days when being a Grandma at 51 meant you could spend your days putting around your empty (clean and neat) house baking cookies just in case your kids dropped by with the grandchildren? When do I get to relax and not worry about this? When can I get old and fat and sit in my rocking chair and let my hair go grey??
Over my dead body, that's when. :)
Today, I woke up to an impossibility. I GAINED weight overnight. Now, let me explain why this is SUPPOSED to be an impossibility. We lose weight at night. Documented fact. A fact I rely upon - heavily - especially the night before weigh-in at Weight Watchers. I did eat a heavy snack before dinner time, so I skipped dinner. No, I didn't eat too few calories. Trust me. AND I worked out at the gym yesterday. And slept a full night. So I happily tripped to the scale this morning thinking I'd have a mental "pat on the back" - and got biotch-slapped hard in the rump.
For a woman of my well-ripened years, there are few joys we can still count on and knowing we will step on the scale lighter in the morning is one of them. AND IT WAS TAKEN AWAY TODAY! Argh. Threw my whole day off. Started me on the road of thinking "why did this happen", which when you are 51 is NOT a safe road to travel.
I found lots of articles explaining why weight gain, especially around the waistline (my personal hell), is almost universal with women at this age. I read the normal "less calories, more exercise" articles. Then I started reading more horrific research findings, such as:
1. Women lose the urge to be active as they get older. This was tied into research that "less estrogen = less urge to move". (Ask any woman with a couch potato estrogen-free husband and they'll probably agree :). Personally, I know this is true. I NEEDED to move and do things when I was younger. Now I daydream about the end of the day when I can just REST.
2. Weight loss equals no more desserts - ever. Women with the most successful long-term weight loss/stability gave up sweets, desserts and sugar drinks. Permanently. I have three weddings to go to this year. Kill me now.
3. Older women have a lower resting metabolism. Meaning when I was younger, I was even burning more calories doing NOTHING. I'm so screwed here....
This age would be hard on me, anyway. I've never had a "real" problem with my weight and was always able to get back to Weight Watchers, knuckle down, do a few more Jazzercise classes and I'd feel okay. Maybe I never was runway-ready, but I was okay. Now..I..am...not..okay. Because to complete today's rant, I always throw myself a little pity party right about this time. As if it isn't hard enough to fight Mother Nature and try to hang onto my body at an impossible time, I get to add the lovely complications of an autoimmune disease that fights me every time I work out a "wee bit" more than a little - and a backbone that is held together by screws and wires. I don't move as well as I used to. Parts of my right leg are numb as a result and will never get their feeling back - hence my lovely lack of balance (which makes my favorite form of exercise - dancing - sort of a non-contender at this point). And while I'm trying to regain the muscle mass I've lost over these last couple years since I had surgery, I have to worry that straining my back too hard recuperating will blow out the adjacent vertebrae in my back - a very real and VERY common occurrence after a spinal fusion like mine.
So, there it is. My rant, my frustration, my personal day of hell. Now, to be honest, this only happens once a month or so (wink) and I have wonderful friends who are going through health issues that make this sound superficial and vain, but so be it.
What happened to the days when being a Grandma at 51 meant you could spend your days putting around your empty (clean and neat) house baking cookies just in case your kids dropped by with the grandchildren? When do I get to relax and not worry about this? When can I get old and fat and sit in my rocking chair and let my hair go grey??
Over my dead body, that's when. :)
Sunday, February 10, 2013
Happy Birthday, Erin and Thank You, Lord :)
I am beyond blessed and it is wholly appropriate that I feel this way on a Sunday, the day that I try to remember thank the Lord for all my blessings :)
I have been blessed to have found love in this world that is hard by nature. I was born into a family that loved, cared and valued me as I do my own children. The Lord followed me to each of my homes with each move and granted me new friends and memories in each.
I love and cherish with all my heart each child the Lord has blessed me to bear. I have had the happiness of being married and welcoming each child into a home with a loving husband and father, something that I've seen in my later years is not always the case. My children may have been decades apart in my life, but each was perfectly planned in God's plan and in my happiness.
My daughters were the blessing of my youth. Having daughters in my 20s allowed me to reach into my childhood and share my life with them as I learned how to raise them and be a mother. And thank the Lord, they forgave my mistakes and love me in spite of them!
My sons were the blessing of the middle of my life. In the late summer of my days, the Lord has granted every remaining prayer I had and settled me into marriage to the love of my life and granted me two children with him, both born after I had turned 40. Each was a precious, amazing, singular experience that was absolutely-perfectly-what I, and my marriage, needed.
On days like today, when I know my failing strength is not right for a 51-year-old, these thanks make me smile. When I have a feeling deep in my soul that my fate will be in the footsteps on my mother and grandmother, who felt the bone-weary fatigue and sickness I feel now with my illness, when they battled the cancer that took them in the end, I take this moment to rejoice in what I have been given and still have today. When I cannot leave my bed and realize I am missing moments and hours that other mothers my age still have, I am still thankful. I have been given so much, none of which I ever - or could ever - deserve.
In an hour, it will be my firstborn's 28th birthday. Truly the day my life began, because that was the day God gave me the first person in the world who truly loved me for who I am and who I could love with unconditional love. Erin's birth made me a mother, but also created a new person in me. One who thanked God every day for the gift of her - as I did for each other child He gifted me with - and for my loving husband of today, George.
My childbirth years are behind me and as my mother once said, it is time for me "to raise the children I have already" and not be sad. Every day is a joy and challenge for me to find the energy needed to nurture them, teach them, feed them, care for them...and love them, above all things.
So, to my daughter, Erin, let me say "Happy Birthday", my darling blue-eyed daughter and child of my heart. You made me a mother, and by doing that, made me a better person and true child of God. Have a wonderful birthday and a wonderful life, because you have done just that for me.
I love you, my darling girl.
I have been blessed to have found love in this world that is hard by nature. I was born into a family that loved, cared and valued me as I do my own children. The Lord followed me to each of my homes with each move and granted me new friends and memories in each.
I love and cherish with all my heart each child the Lord has blessed me to bear. I have had the happiness of being married and welcoming each child into a home with a loving husband and father, something that I've seen in my later years is not always the case. My children may have been decades apart in my life, but each was perfectly planned in God's plan and in my happiness.
My daughters were the blessing of my youth. Having daughters in my 20s allowed me to reach into my childhood and share my life with them as I learned how to raise them and be a mother. And thank the Lord, they forgave my mistakes and love me in spite of them!
My sons were the blessing of the middle of my life. In the late summer of my days, the Lord has granted every remaining prayer I had and settled me into marriage to the love of my life and granted me two children with him, both born after I had turned 40. Each was a precious, amazing, singular experience that was absolutely-perfectly-what I, and my marriage, needed.
On days like today, when I know my failing strength is not right for a 51-year-old, these thanks make me smile. When I have a feeling deep in my soul that my fate will be in the footsteps on my mother and grandmother, who felt the bone-weary fatigue and sickness I feel now with my illness, when they battled the cancer that took them in the end, I take this moment to rejoice in what I have been given and still have today. When I cannot leave my bed and realize I am missing moments and hours that other mothers my age still have, I am still thankful. I have been given so much, none of which I ever - or could ever - deserve.
In an hour, it will be my firstborn's 28th birthday. Truly the day my life began, because that was the day God gave me the first person in the world who truly loved me for who I am and who I could love with unconditional love. Erin's birth made me a mother, but also created a new person in me. One who thanked God every day for the gift of her - as I did for each other child He gifted me with - and for my loving husband of today, George.
My childbirth years are behind me and as my mother once said, it is time for me "to raise the children I have already" and not be sad. Every day is a joy and challenge for me to find the energy needed to nurture them, teach them, feed them, care for them...and love them, above all things.
So, to my daughter, Erin, let me say "Happy Birthday", my darling blue-eyed daughter and child of my heart. You made me a mother, and by doing that, made me a better person and true child of God. Have a wonderful birthday and a wonderful life, because you have done just that for me.
I love you, my darling girl.
Monday, January 14, 2013
Throw out the bath water...but keep the baby
I read alot of blogs and most of them are about homeschooling right now. Alot of them are talking about finding your "word" for your life/homeschool/mission this year. Whatever. I didn't really get it, but the idea kept rattling around in my mind as I'd see them each pick a single word to focus on each day through the year. Hope. Faith. Optimism. You get the idea. A single word representing a characteristic or virtue or action for their life.
I didn't have a word. My inner life is full of sentences and half-finished paragraphs!
But yesterday, my mind found a word. My word. And from whatever corner it crept, it is perfect. My word is...simplify.
I seriously need to simplify my life. My mind works a mile a minute and I am always full of plans and thoughts and curious questions. It always has been. My mind is always racing off in new directions to pursue the answer to a question, the instructions for a project or a prayer for a friend. I start a new one (question, project or prayer) every ten minutes. So my life is full of LOTS of answers, projects - and friends. :) Thank you, Lord.
All of these are wonderful, but Lord, I'm getting old. My mind is as active as ever, but I can't keep up with it as well anymore. I need to continue finding answers to those questions - that is the heart of my life. And I actually need to increase my prayers for my family and friends. But - I can do without anymore projects. Or committees. Or management duties. The list goes on. And lately it has started to include the most unlikely things. For example, I see that I need less:
I didn't have a word. My inner life is full of sentences and half-finished paragraphs!
But yesterday, my mind found a word. My word. And from whatever corner it crept, it is perfect. My word is...simplify.
I seriously need to simplify my life. My mind works a mile a minute and I am always full of plans and thoughts and curious questions. It always has been. My mind is always racing off in new directions to pursue the answer to a question, the instructions for a project or a prayer for a friend. I start a new one (question, project or prayer) every ten minutes. So my life is full of LOTS of answers, projects - and friends. :) Thank you, Lord.
All of these are wonderful, but Lord, I'm getting old. My mind is as active as ever, but I can't keep up with it as well anymore. I need to continue finding answers to those questions - that is the heart of my life. And I actually need to increase my prayers for my family and friends. But - I can do without anymore projects. Or committees. Or management duties. The list goes on. And lately it has started to include the most unlikely things. For example, I see that I need less:
- Christmas decorations. Yes, I am finally realizing I don't need to keep every single, solitary ornament I have ever acquired. I unpack and repack them every year and so many don't even make it to daylight anymore! And the time to put them up and dust them and put them away...save me! I understand old people's love for small, silver pseudo-trees. Makes sense.
- Dishes. I have tons of dishes. And glasses. From 30 years of living on my own in various apartments and homes (and marriages), I have accumulated enough dinnerware to feed everyone in my extended family. If I ever invite them to dinner. Which I won't. Because my house is a disaster. I have wine glasses that are still in boxes from my wedding. Eleven years ago! I need professional intervention here.
- Jobs. I need to feel needed, obviously. Because when I know something needs to be done and I could do a fairly adequate job at it, I think "why not?" And then I hear myself committing to organizing the Cub Scout popcorn drive, or administrate the homeschool Religious Ed program at my church, or become Unit Leader with Avon, or...well, you get it. I'm overcommitted and underintelligent. It's not that can't, or that I won't do a good job, it's just that...again (and forgive me for making this point twice)...I'm old. Okay, I'm only 51, but that's probably 20 years older than I would have been able to do all of this successfully. Since I'm still in the throes of raising my last two babies (who are now 8 and 10), I really can't do much else without pushing my limits. If I can finish teaching them school each day, cook dinner and load the dishwasher without dozing off, I'm lucky. So someone make me STOP!
So you see my problem, right? I need less. I find this a problem when I try to do it the "right" way, by making goals, because goals imply "getting" somewhere or "achieving" something. That whole "doing" and "achieving" is what got me in the Big Decoration/Lots of Dishes/MultiJob dilemma in the first place!!
But this is the right time of year to cut back. When people make New Year's Resolutions, they usually use them to cut something out that isn't healthy, right? Lose weight, stop smoking, less drinking. I'm right with them. This year I'm going to cut out everything I don't need. Which, as I see more every year of my life, is a lot. I need less of EVERYTHING. So here goes. My New Year's Resolution. My "word" to live by this year is:
SIMPLIFY.
Maybe next time I could do it in less words, too, huh? ;)
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