Friday, February 20, 2009
And then there were the animals...and some frank talk about loss of control.
This is the little armadillo - don't you just love his ears????
Anyway, I have a gazillion photos of wildlife but this stupid blog won't let me post more than one at a time today. So I'm going to give you one animal a day for the rest of the month.
We saw several armadillos in the wild but this little guy was rescued and had a new home at the Brevard County Zoo, a fabulous place just five minutes from Sue and Bill's - the ultimate hosts - home in Melbourne.
The trip to the zoo was on Wednesday, when we were lazy and slept late. After a quick breakfast of Sue's banana bread, we drove to the zoo and walked for hours. It's a great place: wooden boardwalks through jungle-like settings. We also went to Jones Beach and sat by the pool for hours. We ate at a spectacular French restaurant called Mim's for lunch and an Italian spot called Carrabas for dinner.
It was the best and the fastest four days on earth! We laughed and cried and talked and walked and beached and ate and ate and ate.
That is why today I began the Atkins induction phase.
DO NOT TALK ME OUT OF IT!
I am totally out of control and I need only support right now. I have used Atkins in the past and not only have I never felt better, I dropped weight like a a seal sheds water.
I have no excuses - I am a glutton.
I do not have a sweet tooth (I'm not even that fond of chocolate!) but I love my food. All food. And if a little bit if good, a lot must be better. I eat inappropriate amounts at inappropriate times, such as full meals at 10 p.m. when my work is done. Or missing lunch because I am so busy writing and then suddenly realizing I AM STARVED about 3 p.m. and gorging on whatever is quick and easy. I loves me my carbohydrates: rice, potatoes, mac 'n cheese. But I also love veggies and meat so Atkins is not really a punishment.
It is more like a restriction.
I don't have to make any decisions because the choices are limited. That works well with me, I can't control things when I have too many choices.
I often make the wrong ones.
One of the many things I reflected on while on vacation was this lack of control and how, if I want to be around for Kiley's future, I need to take charge.
The sounds of the horses hooves flying past your head right now are the sounds of me taking control.
I want to be able to bowl with my friends without worrying that I'll wet my pants.
I want to be able to hike without losing my breath.
I want to be able to put on a swimsuit this summer and not hide.
I want to actually be IN the photographs of all of us having good times.
I want to go snowshoeing.
I want to be able to get back up off my knees when I play on the floor or wash the floor or just lose an earring under the table.
I want to be able to chase Kiley around and pick her up and take long walks, without strain or struggle.
I want to sit in a booth in a restaurant and not have my belly rub the table.
I want to have to shorten the seat belt, not pull it all the way out.
I do not want to have to shop in the plus size section.
I do not want to be embarrassed about my size.
I do not want my children to be ashamed of such a fatty mother and I want to go to New Jersey and meet my son's "new" family and make him proud, and I want to go to events at Kiley's school and have her glow when she introduces her Queenie.
I do not want to be skinny or even thin. I like curves. I think a woman should be soft.
But I do want to be healthy.
I am not doing this to impress any man, or with the thoughts of a future relationship in mind. This has to be my quest. My goal. My success. It CANNOT ride on the back of anyone else's dream. Just mine.
I've been quite frank here about my thoughts and goals because it is long past time that I quit fooling myself. I am fat. I have lots of fat around my middle. My butt is the size of Canada. My thighs rub together when I walk. I have a big ol double chin. And I don't feel good. I don't sleep well and everything is harder to do. I have belly fat - which Dr. Oz and Oprah keep telling me is the worst kind of fat to have. It apparently presses against all the other internal organs and stresses them out. They haven't been complaining yet, but....
So please. No lectures. No sweet comments like "We love you just the way you are.'' I think you will love me just as much if there was a bit less of me to love. Lend me your support. Tell me I can do this and remind me, again and again, why I'm doing it. Tell me how YOU did it. Or why you want to do it. Share with me your stories as I have shared mine. The only thing that I have confidence about is that I WILL succeed.
It is time. I am ready.