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 :)
