Skirt

The last couple of weeks have been pretty tough, one way or another.  I am currently feeling very exhausted and short of emotional resources.  The old ego has taken a few hits.  It all came to a head on Thursday, when I was getting ready to go to a funeral.  We had driven over to Oxford the previous evening, and were coming back directly the wake was over, so were travelling light.  I got my trusty old black skirt out of my bag and put it on.  Or rather, tried to put it on. 

The penny dropped.

Now, I admit I don't wear a smart black skirt that often, but when I had finally shoe-horned myself into it, the image that looked back at me from the mirror was decidedly anatomical.  I have put on quite a bit of weight.  This is not a good look for a woman of a certain age, who will only look as if she is stuck in a time warp that includes electric blue eyeliner and a mullet perm.  It looks, frankly as if you think you are still twenty, and are trying to get into the same size clothes you wore then.  It looks like denial.  It looks desperate.

But the rest of my clothes were three hours drive away.  Luckily, I had a decent long coat I could put over the top to cover the bulges.  But it was a distinct call to arms.

Like most women I have issues with my weight.  These are not helped by not being able to exercise.  I admit I was never exactly Paula Radcliffe in the first place, but lately getting up and down stairs has been as much as I can manage.

Twelve years of ME has taken its toll. I am now worried about getting into that downward spiral where I can't exercise, so I get sicker, so I can't exercise, so I get sicker....  Osteoporosis, obesity, muscle wastage and heart disease will soon be on the horizon.  While I was comforted by the fact that when I looked at the label inside my skirt, it said size 14, and I have been a 16 for a good long time now, this is a wake-up call.

Time for a strategy.  I have spent today with my notebook, setting goals, working out what I can do over what period of time, what I could eat to lose even a few pounds.  My first goal is a simple one.  Lose enough to loosen my waistband just a little bit.  Enough to be comfortable.  And try to move once a day.  A short walk or a few stretches.  I'm not setting out to train for a marathon.  It's baby steps.  And its tough.  Its a delicate balance, not to overdo it and make myself very ill.  But I hope that if I can start moving a bit more, the pain in my wasted muscles and joints will ease a little, and I will feel better about myself.  And that will encourage me to do a tiny bit more.

All the diet and self-help books say, tell people your goals and they will support you.  And hold you to them.  So I am asking for your support.  Your positive vibes.  Help me get my waistband back!