The Art of Getting Smaller

Call me Alice, call me Alice because it really is true. If you eat or drink just the right thing you do get smaller. And like Alice, I have entered into this strange new world where everything seems to be too big, or is it just my perception. My altered perception of reality because my brain has not caught up to this world yet.
While I love this world, I feel like a visitor here. It's not comfortable yet, but very attractive. The clothes in this world are Mediums! Size 14 jeans! I haven't worn those in 15+ years. The food here is very good and not as sweet. And despite my smaller appetite, I cannot seem to order just the right size meal at a restaurant. I keep over-ordering.
I just had my wedding ring resized and it looks tiny, but the reality is it's still one size larger than on our wedding day all those years ago. Truly, it looks like something I'd buy for my daughter. How can it be for me? But, it is.
My husband is excited, he's gaining back the woman he wed. My coworkers keep commenting on "how thin your face looks," they never knew me when... It's good, but strange, the attention is wanted and not so wanted all at the same time. But the best, the absolute best this week was when Songbird went to give me a hug and said, "my arms can go all the way around you, Mommie! Look, I can grab my wrists!" That was a fabulous welcome into this new world.

Determination

Well, I've done it. I've faced the scale, the mirror and the horrifying reality that I am headed in the wrong direction. It's not new, just evident. When last year's fall wardrobe isn't looking like it did last year and last year wasn't all that, well, I can't lie to myself any longer. I have every excuse there is... too busy... working nights... too lazy... too convenient to pick up food... hate cooking... God doesn't care what size I am... too stressed... too emotional... etc...etc...

I guess what I'm sharing is that I'm tired of being the undisciplined sort. I'm determined to put caring for myself into my daily routine. It's been a bit of a wake-up call to think about my hubby's future mobility and my future ability to help take care of him, to enjoy life with him. Thinking about it, skating around the subject and downright ignoring it are not helping. It's time. Man, I feel like a statistic; it's depressing.

So, it is with a decent amount of determination and a wee bit of hope that I've started going to the doctor again (that's why I pay for health insurance right?), joined the dreaded Weight Watchers, and am actually forcing myself to take vitamin supplements. I'm even making an effort to actually do the exercises assigned by the chiropractor and plan to implement an exercise of some sort when released to do so. I feel like I'm in full blown mid-life now. That's the depressing part. When did I get this old?

Here's the part where I'm going to be brave... I'm putting it out there... anyone who knows me won't be shocked... I have a total of 94 pounds to lose to hit my ideal weight. (Seriously thinking about hitting the backspace button here.) That is more that Songbird's entire body! It's going to take at least a year, and that is if there are no setbacks, no moments of weakness that creep up on me and if I stay committed. But here's the thing, I don't think I'll make it if I just look at 5 or 10 pounds as a goal. I think I'll just stop there and give up. I think I have to tackle the entire enchilada, okay bad analogy. The whole wheat tortilla, filled with low fat chicken and low fat cheese, covered in a spicy (to still have taste) sauce! Ha!

Anyway, pray for consistency and determination please... this is no longer a want, it is a need.