If so...we are twins. Here's what's been going on in my A Thousand Steps journey....
I took the long way around. Because it is apparently in my nature to complicate all the things and draw out my own misery until I am at the brink of a breakdown and I think I have all the diseases and have gained back all my lost weight and then I cry for a month (or seven) before I do some simple things like...go to the doctor or research "successful long-term weight loss" with Ms. Google.
Ugh. I am ridiculous at times. Who knew?
Anyway...here's the skinny (Ha!). I hurt my feet back in July. I have been walking with extreme pain ever since. I was told stress fracture. I was told it would heal. Well by Christmas, it was significantly worse. So I immediately went to the doctor. Just kidding I waited 4 more months for no good reason.
I have been depressed that I can't work out. I have shaken my fists at the Universe and demanded answers as to why I couldn't have injured my elbow or my ear. Why does it have to be my feet? WHY, OH WHY, CRUEL WORLD! I sulked and threw myself approximately 47 pity parties for roughly 8 months. I laid around lamenting my failures. You know, because that works.
During the last 4 months, I gave a lot of consideration to weight-loss surgery. I researched it and mulled over the pros and cons. I worried about complications and whether or not it was "cheating". I came to the conclusion that it was not. It's not an "easy way out". Quite the opposite, really and I decided that I deserved an assist to get healthy. I decided that I would go for it. My insurance coverage though made the final decision for me. Weight-loss surgery was in the "Not even close to covered. Not even a little bit" category. In fact, when I looked up my benefits package online, I swear it was in the shape of a foam middle finger pointed right at me...but that's a different post.
So I cried for about a week straight and moped around here like I'd lost my will to live. Then I cried some more. I lounged about with my feet elevated and I started worrying about things like diabetes and cancer. In my head, I decided that I most definitely had foot cancer. Hey, no one ever accused me of having rational thoughts while feeling sorry for myself.
Let's fast forward.
I went to the doctor yesterday. Finally. And wow... I'm a dummy. As I sat there crying at my doctor about all of my aches and pains and about how sad I was about my insurance deciding that fat people didn't get help, she listened. She let me go on for a bit before she said "I'm gonna help you. So lets begin with those feet and go from there". At this point I was crying a damn river but at some point my tears went from salty and angry to hopeful.
She diagnosed my feet with Plantar Fasciitis. She ordered some blood work to check for all the things and new foot x-rays to determine my square one. She then told me about a book. My going home instructions were to stretch and massage my feet and to read a book called Eat to Live.
Coming home yesterday, I was feeling relieved. I immediately went to Amazon and one-clicked that book into my Kindle. This week I will be reading it. Well, it might take 2 weeks because my kids consider me trying read as a personal assault on my love for them. But I will read it. Then I will be preparing my kitchen to do exactly what it tells me to do. I will follow it faithfully for 6 weeks. So....I will be dieting. And I am excited.
I'm excited because I read the introduction last night and in a nutshell it said that it was gonna be hard. It didn't say a thing about the one magic secret or how I didn't have to change my routine at all and I'd lose a million pounds. Quite the opposite. The intro informed me that if I wanted real and lasting results, it was going to be hard for the first 6 weeks. Really hard. But then it gets easier and easier as my body will feel better and better. It also clearly states that this is a whole life journey. In short, this is a permanent overhaul.
I'm a fan of truth-tellin'. This page is called A Thousand Steps not One or Two Steps.
So that's where I am at. I am preparing to Eat to Live. I'll be documenting my progress and all of the inevitable feelings I will be feeling all over the place and in your face. Because, that's what bloggers do. We over share. So, I'm your Eat to Live Huckleberry.
Wish me luck. Hug some puppies. Light a candle and say a prayer for me as I wrestle all the shitty food out of my house. And maybe along the way I will inspire someone out there just like me to start at their square one and go for it. Or maybe not. Maybe it will help no one at all. I'm still gonna do it though because it's time to help myself. I have forgiven myself my failures, dusted off my ego and I'm ready to go again. I'm committed. I'm excited. No more tears of self-pity. No more helplessness. There is only drive.
I have a long way to go. A long long way. At 257 pounds and a BMI of 44 (That's right, fuck it. I just told you that. Yes, I did), I am at square mutha frackalaka ONE.
Here I go....