I don’t know about you, but I hate when the doctor looks at my current weight and writes down obesity as one of my syndromes, symptoms, or health concerns.
The word obese sounds, ‘UGH’. I want to throw up when I hear it. Do you know that if you are more than 25 pounds over weight that you are technically obese. I didn’t either.
I have to admit, I probably double that number, but hey, I’ve got big fat genes, I’ve got big bones, and I’ve been skinny, but…I was still at the obese level if we went strictly by weight.
Before I had a severe accident that left me bedridden for almost a year, I would walk about 5 miles a day. I used to go to the gym ever couple of days and could bench press with my legs about 200 pounds. (Let me tell you, I had some nice legs. “) ) I still weight 190 and wore a size 10.
I am about 5 feet 9 inches, and doc says I shouldn’t go over 150. I don’t want to be modelesque. I just want to look nice.
Last week I bought a dress. It’s a really pretty red. It’s also a size 14, which is what I am going to try to achieve before April, which is my anniversary. I would like to be in a 16 by Christmas
I am up to a 22 right now. So please wish me luck, and if my writing sounds a little pissy, please forgive me, I’m probably suffering food withdrawal.
So now I am going to go make a pumpkin cheese cake for my family that will be here this weekend. I need to make loads of potato salad, and macaroni salad.
I will be making chocolate mayonnaise cupcakes for my grandchildren, filling them with chocolate Grenache and icing them with the most delicious peanut butter cream cheese.
I will stand and smell all of this food, and be good.
Maybe I’ll find a rabbit who is eating my kind of dinner. Maybe I’ll just fudge it. Nope. I must be good. That red dress is staring at me.