Never Too Old

During the past decade or so I decided that I was too far in life, too old, to make a positive difference in my health and weight anymore. My body, while not old and decrepit yet, was older, settled, and on its way down the other side of the proverbial hill, so why bother trying, right? Might as well settle calmly into old age, don’t fight it, age gracefully. Accept the wrinkles, the weight, the sunspots… There was actually a side of me that thought like this. Mostly it was fear- it’s scary to commit to changing your life, to looking at your choices critically, to seeing where they got you.
We all have addictions. Some of us lean on alcohol, smokes, most anyone reading this blog probably leans on food. Heavily. I leaned on food. I’m not sure why I thought my husband wouldn’t offer his shoulder to me, but instead of turning to him for support, I turned to him for a ride to the store, as a partner in pastry purchases, as my comrade in complacency. He never had a problem with food and didn’t understand what it meant to me when we went to the store to buy a pizza, reduced priced donuts and strawberry soda for dinner. I had never eaten like that before our relationship and eventually my women’s plus size 30 overalls reflected our food choices.
…But I was getting older, and I thought I was so far gone… I was a victim to my own thinking and my own food choices. At 340 pounds, looking down the scale at trying to achieve a 100 pound weight loss to 240, much less my BMI goal of 142… It seemed impossible.
But I wasn’t old. It wasn’t too late.
I’m not saying that I’m a miracle or a success story or anything like that. I’m a good distance down the path, but months of positive progress don’t add up to a weightloss success story. That will come when I’m in my 70’s and still maintaining my weight, still exercising, still living my life capably and with zest. My greatest fear is my mortality. Why would I succumb to aging and death prematurely if I didn’t have to? Why would I let this finite amount of time I have on this earth be consumed and dictated by food, my weight and my fear of my mortality instead of the love and attachment I have to my kids and husband? So I stood up and started to fight. I turned to my husband for support. What choice did I have? What choice do any of us have? My success story has a solid beginning. While I’m not a success story with a complete ending yet, I do believe that with determination I will, eventually, be a success story. I’m determined to live the best possible version of my life, at 40, at 50, at 70, at every age I have the privilege of living.
You’re never too old to make a positive change in your life. Ever.

This Week in Non-Scale Victories…
Last year I got this jacket for my birthday. I could barely squeeze into it and I could eek the zipper closed. But it was so tight I was sincerely worried that I would bust the zipper. Plus, it would roll up over my tummy unless I kept my hands in the pockets to keep it down. Yeah, tight. Cut to yesterday when I wore the jacket out and realized what a very nice jacket my husband purchased for me! It is going to the best winter jacket, and, lest we forget- it fits!. Non-scale victory… 🙂

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