Growing up in school, I always had issues with my feet. I went to doctor after doctor. They immobilized my foot for a while. Don’t ask me why it was immobilized, it wasn’t broken, but I was in a cast for weeks upon weeks upon weeks. It seemed like a lifetime for an 8 year old girl. The casts came off and the pain was still there. They continued to poke and prod me. Eventually one of the doctors came up with a surgical plan. It would have called for total immobilization for months upon months. I had already tried this and that and to myself and my parents it just seemed as if this was another shot in the dark. It was opted to pass on the surgery. Right about that time we stopped going to the doctors. I had by that time learned how to deal with the chronic pain. The pain was pretty intense at times while I was growing up. My pain developed its own catch phrase within my family. I would just say “my bone” and everyone knew. The problem is that this foot pain is partly what set me up for the colossal failure that my weight has been in my life. I was a very active kid. I was always outside playing, just like any kid in the 70’s I’d wager. I didn’t really gym/PE at school. I loved when they pulled out the nets and we played floor hockey, but I just wasn’t athletic and it wasn’t my favorite subject in school. And then these mysterious feet problems reared their ugly head. When it hurt I had no desire to play outside. I didn’t have any desire to participate in gym classes. I had the perfect excuse, “my bone”. I even had doctors notes that made it A-OK for me to sit on the sidelines during gym class should ‘my bone’ be bothering me. It was a recipe for disaster. For a girl that didn’t get into the team sports that is so typical in gym class I used the ‘my bone’ card much more than I probably had to. Don’t get me wrong, there were some days where I really did ache. But there were many more that I skipped simply because I didn’t want to participate. I know that in high school for that required class, I milked it for all it was worth. It was very easy to find someone that had PE before me , simply to find out what we were doing. If I didn’t feel like doing it I used the ‘my bone’ card. I’m not saying that ‘my bone’ is what made me fat. But it certainly didn’t help matters.
As I stopped participating, I let my fears start to rule me. Seriously! I wasn’t athletically inclined but with a foot that I DID hobble on and with the lack of continual exercise I became the girl that got hit with a softball (true story) and the girl that got hit with the volleyball (true story) and quickly became the last one picked because I was a liability to any sporting team. It was a self-perpetuating manifestation of obesity inspiring factors.
Luckily as I’ve gotten older the pain slowly died away and I can go for weeks, months even without any pain. Or maybe, just maybe it’s just a way of life and I don’t even pay attention to it. I think it’s a combination of the two. Either way, it is an excuse. It’s an excuse that I worked for 30 years. I am was the queen of excuses
Today is my rest day. I used to cheer and applaud when I would declare it a rest day. Looking back, I had NO CLUE. I woke up feeling fresh as a daisy. I was chipper and my body felt fine. Now-a-days, I am working out much much more. I am working out with a much higher intensity. By the time my rest day rolls around, I feel like I’ve been through a war! My all or nothing personality/mentality makes me want to exercise, but I know that I need the break. My body screams at me to take the break. And even as much as I want to exercise, I can’t imagine what it would be like to not take the day or rest at this point. It makes me want to cry just thinking about it. The good thing about the day of rest? I wake up the next morning and I’m ready to go. That one day is pure magic.
I’m holding my own with my eating. I’m trying to incorporate snacks into my day. I’ve been simply eating my three meals and calling it good. (yeah, I know….but it’s worked for me in the past and it’s still working). But I am really trying. SO I am incorporating snacks. Today it was really stressing me out. I got to work at 7:45…and I was sipping on my breakfast smoothie. I leave at 2. If I didn’t finish breakfast until 8:30, how in the world am I supposed to get a snack and lunch in before 2PM. And I certainly don’t want to eat lunch at 2 today. Ahhhh stress about a snack? Only me! I eventually decided that I would eat my morning snack at 10 (well I nibbled on my grapes for a while so it was longer) and I’m going to go to lunch at 12:30….can’t really push it too much later since I get off at 2. The one thing about the snacking thing…I’m not hungry…my lunches have been half eaten since I incorporated this new habit.
1 comment:
i never snacked growing up and i still dont. getting three meals in between 10pm and noon is hard enough. i say do what works for you, and glad you took your day of rest. xoxo
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