I have joined the Bar Method challenge.
I have to attend 15 classes in the month of March.
Then they will develop a program for me in April and May.
They assigned me a motivational coach and paired me up with a work out partner.
That’s great and I can meet that challenge no problem.
I wanted to jump start my physical activity program.
I’ve been busy with work and have neglected my intense daily work outs for long walks.
It’s not working.
On top of that I have additional motivation in the form of a 30 year high school reunion coming up in August.
Yup, it’s true.
You can do the math, what it really means is that I am staring down the barrel of 50.
I turn 48 this July.
But the real challenge?
Facing the fact that I am getting older and so is my body.
Deciding once and for all whether I will lose the extra weight or continue down the path I’ve been going during my 40′s.
The weight is taking up too much head space and that is the challenge.
Mentally I’m cool with getting older.
I wouldn’t go back to being 20 or even 30.
Life gets better and better.
The hard part about getting old is how the body changes.
How one or two glasses of wine knocks me on my butt. In the not too distant past when I would refer to drinking too much wine, it was closer to a bottle than a glass that could knock me on my butt. I could still get up, work out, work for 12 hours, and then go out on the town and do it all over all again.
I could also eat whatever I wanted (within reason) and I actually never really got into sugar until I became pregnant and Sprinkles cupcakes came to town. I developed a wicked sugar habit that I have yet to kick.
My body has jiggles in places that I’ve never known. Those jiggles are just plain weird.
I’m not a stick, never have been. Never will be.
I’ve got a gut no matter how slim I am and I’ve had a ample rack since junior high.
However, the gut and rack are larger than I’d like.
I have weight to loose and not 5 or 10, more like 25 or 3o.
There I’ve said it.
But in some ways it’s hard to say good bye to the pounds. There is a certain safety and security in it.
It’s my excuse, my crutch.
I am used to being unhappy about it and it now feels normal and that’s wrong.
Feeling bad about yourself is not normal.
It’s also hard to get used to how people respond to older women.
I’m called Mame by store clerks. I
keep on looking around for my Mom, but it’s me they are talking to.
I don’t get the double take anymore.
You know when a guy looks at you and then turns again to see you walk on by?
The last double take I got was when I was 9 months pregnant and was so large I got stuck in the booth at Canters Deli.
We all want to feel sexy to the opposite sex even if we are married.
This extra weight in combination with the natural changes of an aging body is not making me feel my best.
(I must give kuddos to my husband here. He adores me no matter what I look like.
Up for days on end with a newborn, dried breast milk and barf on my shirt, he still thinks I’m hot)
But I am going to rise to the challenge once and for all.
Not for the 30th reunion.
Not for anyone.
I can do it.
So can you.