Surprisingly enough, I gained less than a pound in the 4 weeks since I stopped being good. Enough binges countered with enough guilt days where I ate like I was supposed to, just a little stricter, did the trick to make sure it didn't spiral out of control, it seems. I haven't returned to a proper exercise schedule, but I imagine that's not going to happen until after I get back from PA next week. I'll just satisfy myself with lengths at the pool in the interim.
One of the gossipy family bits my mother filled me in on the other day was about my grandmother's need for a pacemaker, how she's been in the hospital for the past few months now because of problems. More than anything else, this strikes the fear of god in me because I don't want the health issues that my grandmother had.
As a little background for people who don't know, I pretty much grew up in my grandmother's house. When my parents split up when I was 7, my mom tried 2 years of living on her own (back in the near vicinity of my grandmother's, so that she could help), but the financial strain got to be too much, and when I was 9, we moved into Grandma's house. I lived there until I was 18 and went away to college, and in many ways, she's another parent to me. Not that that's a good thing. I was not one of her favorite people and she made that fact known to me most days of the year.
Anyway, my grandmother in her prime was 6'0" and probably what would be labeled as statuesque. When I became fully acquainted with her, however, it was 10 years after my grandfather's death, and she had put on a lot of weight in her grief. She was easily 300+ pounds while we lived with her, and had the health problems to prove it---high blood pressure, adult onset diabetes, the works. She's also the one who instilled in us that we weren't allowed to leave the table without cleaning our plates, that you generally had to eat *everything* on the table (that rule relaxed as we got older and our preferences became more set in stone), and that a meal wasn't complete without some type of dessert. She was a consummate cook and baker, and the house was never short of something sweet.
I tell you all this, not to blame my grandmother because she was only a contributing factor, but to provide background. I was never a thin child, but my weight escalated as I got older because food became my retreat from a lot of the negative in my life. My PCOS certainly didn't help either. I've been trying to change that over the past several years, with Craig's help (although his excessive working and sedentary job hasn't helped his weight either), but it's just so damn hard. I just want to be healthy, damn it. I'm only 10 pounds more than when I was married 5 years ago, and actually 30 pounds less than when Craig met me 7 years ago. But I still have so far I want to go. For once in my life, I'd just like to be able to...aw crap, I'll admit it. I just want to be considered attractive. I was always the smart one, never the pretty one. I was always the buddy, never the girlfriend. I was always the "cute" one, never the one who turned heads. Ever.
Yes, I'm aware that I'm probably a bit too obsessive about how I look. I vacillate between being me, where I really don't care to wear make-up and am happy that I look like a schlub and that a smile is my best accessory, and being ultra-aware of appearances, where I won't leave the house without make-up on and spend way too long in front of the wardrobe trying on different blouses because I want the one that is "just right." Now, with my 35th birthday come and gone, and a return to reality that news about my grandmother brings, that has ebbed---though still there---to let concern about my health spring to the fore. I don't want to give my body an excuse to quit on me. This is the only one I have, and damn it, I have to start taking care of it the way I should've 10 or 15 years ago. I'm finally in a place in my life where I can do that, I think.
I'm probably going to be talking more about my weight issues in my LJ in coming months. I lose weight best when I have support, as witnessed by my losing 44 pounds in 5 months 2 years ago when I joined a local weight club back in Colchester. I don't think I'll be joining one here, mainly because of the whole "you'll eat how I tell you to eat" mentality that goes along with it and I already know what I have to do to lose the weight, so my LJ will be means of recording progress. I'm going to be cheering for just_kumi, and rah-ing for brandil now that she can return to The Plan. And I'll be grateful that I have friends out there who care about me.
Thanks for listening to me rant. That's all this was. I just needed to get this off my chest. :)