What's a Girl Gotta Do?

If I were to simply list the stats for the past two weeks, you might think I am a fairly avid athlete.  I have run about 27 miles, walked close to 10 miles, biked 23 miles and participated in 3 sessions of water aerobics and lap swim.  Impressive for a 52 year old woman who believes beaches are for lolling, not volleyball.  

I began the whole run thing last September in an attempt to shore up my heart.  My family heart history errs to the side of weak and I wanted to beat the odds. . .and drop some weight.  I have been successful at both.  My resting heart rate is in the mid 40s, I've lost a significant amount of weight and in the process have become addicted to running.  Bravo.

So, here is the problem.  My resting heart rate (which I already mentioned) is at the same level as a Lance Armstrong type. . .which would be great if I was in the same physical shape.  I'm not and I've had that heart rate for several years, so really there has been no change.  I still have high blood pressure and always will (thanks, Dad, Grandpa, etc.). I have high cholesterol (same family). I have made a concerted effort to accurately and honestly write down everything I eat and drink (and yes, that includes the 2-3 glasses of wine on Fridays with my friends).  I literally cut most restaurant meals in half and take the other half home.  That being said on MOST days (sometimes you have to live a little) I stay between 12-1500 calories a day.  You would think I would be completely transformed.  Yeah, you would think.

So, I look in the mirror and assess.  What do I see?  I don't cast as large a shadow (credit to Ralph for that phrase), but it's still the same body.  Still round, still fat.  This is where I will tell you that it's ok.  I am happy with the achievement, accepting of a body that carries genetics beyond my control.  I am at peace.

But, that would be a lie.  


I can't leave on that sour note so I will let you in on a secret.  It is my summer cocktail-- low calorie, yummy and effective.

Hole in One

If you enjoy an Arnold Palmer (lemonade and ice tea sweet). . .this will kick it up.

1 packet Crystal Light lemonade
2 oz Seagrams Sweet Tea Vodka
1 large tumbler

Mix the Crystal Light (I like mine stronger so I use about 2/3 C. water to mix) with water.  Add ice.  Pour vodka over the top, mix and enjoy.  132 calories.


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READ THIS BEFORE MAKING A RESOLUTION

They started early this year, those gym and weight reduction commercials that assault us every time we turn on the television.  They have a great hook, one that a majority are taken in by every single year.  The New Year's Resolution.  That one time where you pledge to do something different, better, more often all in the name of new year.  A flip of the calendar.  Seriously?  If you didn't get my message last year when I painted the scenario: resolve, join gym or diet program, go great guns for a week or two, get tired. . .or hungry, cheat, self flagellate, try again, give up.  The result?  Dollars thrown away and unnecessary guilt all because you felt compelled to announce a resolution when the calendar changes.  Who wins?  The gym, the diet program and now the self help centers that are ready to rush in and repair your ego. . .for a price.  I've said it before and I'll say it again, DON'T DO IT!  Instead, join me for some red wine and dark chocolate.  That's my kind of good health!

You're not going to listen to me, are you?

On a positive note, I am sponsoring a book give away for my book, Is It Just Me? or Is Everyone a Little Nuts!  I have 2 books to give away to any new followers  or current followers who bring in a new follower between now and January 5.  I will announce the winners on the 6th.  Thanks!  And Good Luck!

But Weight. . . Is There More?

Most of you are well aware that I have spent he past 6 weeks somewhat  incapacitated.  I had surgery to remove a bone spur that had grown between two bones of my ankle joint rendering my foot unable to bend in a natural way and, ultimately left me stuck in a prone position for 3 weeks with another 3 in a Herman Munster boot.  I've called this time my unfortunate incarceration.  

Having been here before, but in a much worse capacity a few years ago. With the whole Achilles reattachment that resulted in 6 weeks prone, I vowed that this time I would be much more vigilant about trying to keep active somehow so as to avoid the whole  issue of  "spread".  Aspirations are a great thing. . .reality is the great equalizer.

I don't step on scales.  Those numbers are useless to me.  I weigh 120 pounds.  I know this because my driver's license says so.  I am proud that I have been able to maintain that weight all these years.  But what happens when you go somewhere where they "need" you to step on a scale?  Like say, the doctor's office?

For years, I insisted on standing on the scale backwards and admonished the nurse to NOT say the number out loud.  Why do I need to hear that number when I have a document that says it anyway (and will for as long as a good friend of mine runs the DMV locally)?  But, I am proud to say that at 49,  I have seized ownership of my free will and simply tell the nurse who says blandly, "Step on the scale please,"  No.  

The way I see it, I know when things have changed enough that it needs to be recorded.  We all know it.  You know that day when suddenly your jeans require air drying instead of being put in the dryer - well that's not the signal.  The signal is the day you cannot pull them up beyond your muffin top (which we all know is a delicate term for Dunlop's Disease - as in my belly dun lopped over my belt.)  Conversely, when you have been working hard and been successful enough to actually have to go buy clothes because everything you have hangs on you?  That would be a signal too.  I'm not saying you have to face that number (because you already know it's 120) but you can turn your back to the scale and tell the nurse to keep her mouth shut.

Which brings me to the here and now.  I have been, essentially, a body at rest (which, according to one commercial, tends to stay at rest) and even though I was extremely conscientious of what I ate and DID NOT EAT, I am sure the inevitable has occurred.  How do I know?  Well, the good news is that I can still put on my jeans.  The bad news is I kinda feel like Jabba the Hutt.  I have a doctor's appointment today and my hope is that I can lose the Herman Munster boot (which I am sure must weigh 10 pounds on it's own) and then I can get moving again.  However I will not get on a scale. According to my criteria (the jeans that I can still get on), I still weigh 120 pounds and my driver's license proves it!  

Judi Coltman is author of Is It Just Me? or Is Everyone a Little Nuts! available through Amazon, Barnes & Nobel.com, and www.judicoltman

The Skinny On My Reflection

A long time ago, I saw Elizabeth Taylor being interviewed after losing a massive amount of weight. I believe it was just after her split from Virginia Govenor John Warner. She was looking fabulous in a sequined evening gown, violet eyes and dangling diamond earrings. Elizabeth Taylor ruled that interview until she was asked about her weight and recent weight loss. The question was, what made you decide to drop all of those pounds. Her answer caught me off guard. "Because, I caught an accidental and unfortunate glimpse of myself in the mirror." I understood what she was saying completely. A reflection of ones self when you least expect it can be frightening to say the least. I know because it happened to me.

I mean, I am aware of exactly what I should be wearing, what angle I should look at and when it should be done ( upon leaving the house, the ladies room and the locker room.) It's those moments when you aren't looking that you really see. And so it was when I was walking through the ice cream section ( sale on Edy's Slow Churned!!) I went to open the freezer case door and saw a large neck, 2 chins and a frown looking back. A longer survey elicted me to gasp outloud, "My God! Who put that ass on my butt?" It was a mortifying moment. It was also a motivating moment. It was October 6 of 2008.

Today, I had to run to the bank. I entered through the main doors and approached the desk that sits right in front of the glass doors that block the safe deposit box's. I signed in, looked up and saw someone looking back from the glass door reflection. I was mesmerized. This person had a defined jaw line, a slender neck, and a smile. I was so taken with the reflection that I was a little miffed that the lady at the desk stood up and blocked my view. Dang! That reflection was me and it didn't look so bad. I even liked it.

I still wonder how in the world that ass attached itself to my butt, but I am more amazed my reflection didn't trigger shame. Maybe I should get a job at the bank, afterall, they do have good reflective glass and that is as good a reason as any to seek employment there, no?