Wellness, post four

Has it really been four weeks?? Wow. Time flies when you're not stuffing cheese and chips and Red Vines into your piehole.

So this is week four. I am averaging 4-5 visits to the gym every week. I had to skip today due to the fact that everything in the world was scheduled for February 3rd, but I went Sunday, Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday, and plan on going tomorrow morning.

I know, I know.....who is this person? Aren't I the same woman who was getting wheezy going up the stairs just a few weeks ago? Am I the same person who came up with every excuse in the book to NOT get exercise?

Yep. It's me. And believe me, I'm just as shocked as anyone.

I think it's said that it takes 30 days to make something a habit. Or maybe it's 30 days to make a Hobbit. Whatever. Tomorrow is officially my 30th day of eating less and exercising more.

And it's paying off.

I have noticed improvements in just about every single facet of my life. My mood is almost always good, if not great. Sleep comes easier now and I am staying asleep all night. This is after almost 2 years of horrible insomnia. My skin has an actual glow to it now. Whether that's from the fact that I sweat like a freaking pig when I workout and am 99% sure I'm developing rosacea or whether the glow is coming from inside, who knows. But just tonight I had three different people say to me, and I quote: "You're glowing." I kidded with one friend that the glow was the result of scoring a prime parking spot at the Learning Fair at school tonight, but I know better than that. It's because I'm getting healthier.

My time management has improved. I've spent the last 30 days trying to make sure that regular workouts could be wedged into my already busy schedule without sacrificing anything too important. And so far, so good. I have been letting the eBay stuff slide, and of course this little diary of mine has suffered a bit, but now that I have things down to a semi-regular routine I'm going to try and get back to both full throttle.

Physically, the results are becoming obvious. Maybe only to me right now, but that's ok. Last year I bought this cute North Face jacket at my beloved Value Village for a bladder-weakening $1.99 (have you ever felt guilty buying something that is so obviously mis-marked?? Not really? Neither have I). So anyways, it's a woman's XL. I couldn't even get the zipper halves to touch, let alone get them zipped up. I comforted myself with the knowledge that North Face runs on the slim side. And then I'm sure I comforted myself with two chili-cheese burritos from Taco Smell.

For whatever reason, I hung on to that jacket. Yesterday I tried it on.

And I zipped it up. True, I looked a little like an icy blue sausage, but dammit, I zipped that sucker up no problem. As I stood there and looked at myself all zipped up in my bargain North Face, I felt proud. And that was when I realized that every drop of sweat, every drive to the gym in below freezing weather, every single time I sat down and did the same sets on the same weight machines was WORTH IT. Slowly but surely I am chipping away at this fat suit. And next month, when I put the jacket on again, I am certain that it may not only fit just fine, but it may be a little big.

That is the stuff that keeps me going.

And that's not the best part. I have been trying to figure out whether or not I should write about my daughter and her struggles with weight. She is beautiful, absolutely lovely. Tall, with alabaster skin and the prettiest blue eyes I've ever seen. A smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. I adore her.

She was always a little on the chubby side. She had that toddler tummy, and that tummy stuck with her until elementary school. When she got to about 6th grade, I was buying the kid's plus size jeans for her (you know the ones, they had them at Target and Limited Too...12 1/2 or 12 +, the equivalent to adding a "W" after women's sizes). She began putting on more weight in junior high.

I stressed out about it, but was scared as hell to say anything. I know that these are the years when one single incident, one off-hand remark can lead to a life-long eating disorder. I remember very clearly my first college roommate puking into the little sink in our dorm room after dinner every night. I don't want that for my daughter.

But I also don't want her to be the "fat girl". I already see her sinking farther into her books and her laptop instead of outward with friends and activities. I watched her pass up invitations to pools and beaches last summer. I see her obvious discomfort when we go shopping for clothes. She hides herself exactly the same way I've always tried to hide myself.

I don't want this to be her life.

My wellness coach, Faith, asked me what my goals are with this whole wellness thing. Aside from the personal stuff, my biggest goal is to help my Molly. I want to model positive behaviors for her, show her that yes, getting into shape is really hard work, but it's good. I've been waiting patiently for that light bulb to go off over her head, for her to approach me about exercise.

And this past week, it happened. Nine sweet little words uttered one night as we both got ready for bed. Like an afterthought, really.

"Mom, can I come work out with you sometime?"

So far, this is the best thing that has happened.

Stay well, my friends.