Tucked neatly at the bottom of this blog (yes, scroll ALL the way down), you will find a hula gal dancing across a cyber beach. No, this is not a countdown to my next beach vacation, it's a weight loss/BMI increase meter. I will be logging in here every week for the next ___ weeks, months, or as long as it takes with the results of my effort to get healthy and slim down. If this goes well the pounds should go down and the BMI should go up. This is one of those inverse relationships having to do with my health that, as I am getting older, I am really paying attention to. Really.
Blame it on the screwy menopausal hormone dance (even crazier than Brian Eno on Mountain Dew) or thyroid disease or anti-depression drugs or a certain amount of exercise malaise -- I have all of the above and I am carrying around too much heft. It's like my body has been hijacked by the Michelin man. I feel all squidgy and out-of-balance and, okay I'll say it, fat. I feel about as sexy as a cardboard box.
I need to do something.
So, I am saying it here -- and even including a graphic meter to prove it -- I must lose 40 lbs. And, sure, it would be nice to be a size 8 again, but mostly it would be nice to give my heart, blood pressure, and feet a break. Not to mention my insulin response. I'm not shooting for any instant reductions, just a gradual ebbing away of, well, a chunk of me.
And, as well as I can, I will chronicle it here, in the spirit of fessing up and slimming down.
I'm not shooting for the skinny, post-anorexic look, but rather a healthier me who looks good dancing. I'm naming this goal "svelte goddess" in the spirit of that joyful, yet curvy deity Parvati. Well, okay, she looks joyful until she gets mad and grows a bunch of arms and has an attack of the rathful. Kind of like me without estrogen... But, you know what I mean. I'm shooting for healthy and strong middle aged body, rather than the skinny and brittle edition.
The good news is that Tom, ever patient spouse, is joining me in this endeavor. Hopefully, this will give us an extra five years at the end when we can still get on out and get it on. At the very least, I'm hoping he'll look good in animal prints.