I just sat down to write a blog post, opened up WordPress, and found this stub of a post that I started back at the end of May:
“If you want different kinds of results, you need to plant different kinds of seeds.”
This is relevant in so many ways, both literally and figuratively.
I’ll just run with this one.
If I were writing this with paper and pencil instead of typing on my laptop, my eraser would have torn a hole in the paper by now.
I guess I’ll just start with the main fact I’m dancing around: I’ve gained 40 pounds in the past four years.
On one hand, the reasons why I gained the weight don’t really matter at this point. What matters is getting back down to a healthy weight. On the other hand, if I don’t pinpoint what happened, then how do I fix it?
Let me give some background, and peel this onion a bit.
I reached my lowest adult weight in 2016, with the help of Weight Watchers. That ultimate low wasn’t sustainable for me, though, and I was perfectly fine with stabilizing around ten or fifteen pounds above that low point. Over the next few years, my weight fluctuated a bit, hovering around 180 lbs — technically still overweight for my height of 5’9″, but not by much. In 2019, I was diagnosed with ADHD, and the stimulant I was prescribed helped me lose the few pounds that had slowly crept on.
I was surprised and proud when I maintained my weight during the pandemic in 2020, despite a major shift in routine. My daily step count dropped almost by half once I started working from home, but I didn’t see any major weight fluctuations.
Then two things happened: I signed up for DoorDash, and I entered perimenopause.
My weight started to creep up, and I was confused. I didn’t change my eating habits, so why was I gaining weight? At first, I blamed it on a new medication my doctor had prescribed to assist my antidepressant; even after I discontinued it, though, the weight continued to pile on.
The march toward menopause continued. The scale kept creeping up. I got discouraged. My habits slowly changed, and not for the better. I started ordering more takeout and attending Krav Maga less often.
We returned to working on-site, and I had to buy new work pants. The seasons changed, and I had to buy new shorts. The rather large thyroid nodule I’ve had for several years started to make me physically uncomfortable, due to the extra girth around my neck. My wedding band — after having been sized down at least twice over the past 20 years to accommodate my weight loss — finally got so tight that I stopped wearing it.
All the while, I was living in the moment, letting my inner teenager take control and not owning the consequences of her actions — or her inaction. On the weekends, I’d try my damnedest to figure out what healthy options for make for dinner that week, then finally give up and decide to wing it. During the week, I’d flop down on the couch at the end of the workday, mentally exhausted, and ask my son whether he’d rather have takeout or have me make something, knowing full well what his answer would be.
No more.
Time to start adulting in earnest.