Where would I be now? About twelve years ago I had this idea to change one behavior a week in my routine with the goal of losing weight. It made total sense to me, surely I am capable of changing one thing a week. Making small changes would be easy I told myself. Yet, I wasn't patient enough to follow my own advice. Instead, as each new year approached (like any old tomorrow wouldn't do just fine) I would come up with a grandiose plan which often included, but not limited to the following: make a commitment to walk a half hour every day, limit my calorie intake to 1,200 calories daily, drink eight glasses of water, give up diet soda, give up candy, join the YMCA, walk my dog, give up potatoes and bread, throw out all the clothes that were too big or currently fit me in my closet (because God knows there is everything in there from size 10-size 2X), take aqua-size classes, join a weight support group at church, join an organized weig...
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How did I get here? It's January 2nd of a new year. I've been in this place, in this state of mind, probably every new year since I was in junior high school, knowing that if I don't change something, my health will only get worse over the coming year. I can remember some years where I gave up anything that even resembled candy. I wouldn't even eat a Tic Tac fearing it would lead to a Lifesaver and then to a Rolo followed by a full Reese's Peanut Butter Cup. Once it got that far, there would be no going back. The year I turned twenty years old I managed to go a whole calendar year without eating any candy and continued into February of the following year without problems. Then came Valentine's Day and I went right back to eating candy almost daily. I would say that one of my biggest problems is I seem to be "all or nothing" when it comes to eating and exercising. Either I'm completely "on" or "off." And when I'm off, ...
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Last Wednesday I had cataract surgery on my right eye. What makes this procedure a little odd for me is that I'm only 58 years old. I like to think of cataract surgery as something that "old people" do. I remember when my grandpa had it, and he was in his 80's. But that's not the reason for this story or this blog. When I walked into the pre-op room, I was directed to a scale. My anxiety kicked in as I stepped up on the silver floating plate near the floor. Who knew that I would be weighed for cataract surgery. What does my weight have to do with my eyes? I watched the numbers in front of me start to climb. Up, up they went and then stopped at 101. Oh, that's nice, I thought. They have measured me in kilos. Now I won't have to know how much I truly weigh. The nurse then stood over my shoulder and started running her index finger along a BMI chart on the wall located right behind the scale I was standing on. I watched as her finger moved diagonally fro...