Feelings

I went to the doctor this morning. And by doctor, I mean "Lady Parts Doctor". Yup, it's that time again...you know the one...where you try to make small talk while a physician has you unceremoniously and ungraciously draped on the exam table, shining a light in places that don't see light but once a year, or during childbirth, hoping that you can unclench muscles you never really thought you had conscious control of to begin with, no matter the amount of "exercises" you do at stop lights and the like...

This was a bit unusual for me this year, as I was, once again, talking to a new doctor about concerns I've had since I turned 18 and realized I had a voice and if things were not "textbook", I should speak out about them. Now, this new doctor was new to the practice, and my usual doctor is still there...she was just booked until almost May. I don't generally rush into this appointment (what woman does?), but had some concerns that BB was upset I hadn't addressed heretofore.

I arrived, checked in and sat in the sun-drenched waiting room, enjoying the soft scent of something herbal and mildly floral, soaking up the heat, and light, eyes closed, wondering how I was going to come up with the gumption to talk to a complete stranger about my concerns, and praying that I wouldn't feel brushed off as I had once upon a time at a different office altogether...they called my name, and I dumped my purse and magazine on the chair in the exam room, kicked off my Ni.ke's and stepped onto the scale...to my dismay, their scale read me 11 pounds heavier than ours at home. Granted, I don't generally weigh myself fully clothed after meals, and prior to using the restroom...but still...11 pounds!?!?!?!?!?! Seriously?!??!?!!?!

At any rate...we then proceeded to the rest of the vitals...use the cup, take the blood pressure, ask the multitude of questions that never really get to the heart of the issue, as they all have "yes" or "no" answers. The nurse was sweet, and laughed with me, joking about things with me, asking about the kids...and then she left me to undress and climb onto the table and await the doctor.

She came in, and was wonderful! She asked me lots of questions, and often remarked "I see in your records that...", so I knew that she'd read my charts and actually paid attention...she did the exam, and we talked about some options that I had, and where she recommended starting. She went to check with my regular doctor to insure there were no labs that needed to be run before I could start my medication (yay for me...), and I dressed. After she returned, she sat down, and said "Now for the lecture...first, I want you to know that ___ is not a bad weight per se, but given your family history, and your own medical history..." and it went downhill from there...

Long story short, and sparing the personal and gritty details...I have no choice but to lose a minimum of 30 pounds. That 30 pounds will lower my BMI to the upper range of "Normal" or "Healthy". Optimally, she'd like it (as would my regular doc) if I lost closer to 50, to put me safely in the embrace of a "Healthy" BMI.

I know...what woman that is post-childbearing doesn't have a few pounds she'd like to shed, and some areas that are still soft and squishy where once they were firm, and smooth, tight enough to bounce a quarter on?!?!?! OK...so, the only 6-pack I've ever had on my abs was once when I was at a lake with the boy I was dating and his younger brother thought it would be funny to put the icy cold 6-pack of Mtn D.ew on my stomach, as I lay in the sun, relaxing after water skiing...

I've never been called "fat" or "large" by anyone not in my family, but my mom's been concerned for some time, and, after chatting with her today, she informed me that MissionaryMan and his wife expressed their "concern" over my physical state and health. Her words were "your brother is very concerned about your health, and asked what you were doing about it...your sister-in-law said that if she ever got that fat when not pregnant, she'd probably just stop eating." Ouch...I know what my SIL meant, so don't get all up-in-arms about it...but still...it hurt to hear it because I have been working. Hard.

It seems as though I just can't win...I work out regularly 4 times a week. I have cut out almost 100% of the grains I eat...no bread, no rice, no potatoes, no noodles, no crackers, no chips, no cookies...all the foods that I prepare that are like that are for BB and the kids...I don't even sneak a cookie from the cookie jar. I have cut out all the creamy sauces, and if I do make a casserole that has the words "cream of" or "cheese" in the ingredient list, I only take a measured portion (I actually scoop it into a measuring cup loosely, and don't eat more)...I just don't know what else to do...

I am frustrated that the pounds are seeming to stick to my ribs like oatmeal for breakfast is supposed to do...and I keep reading articles that say "Belly Fat? Here's why you have to get rid of it!" or "The Danger's of being 'Thick in the Middle'"...and I cringe, because I know the dangers. I know why I need to lose the weight, the inches, and get fit. I know what needs to be done...I just can't seem to make it happen to my middle!

So today, as I'm shredding up the 15 pounds of cheddar I just bought at Cos.tco on Monday to freeze for meals down the road, I'm thinking...did I just spend all this money and now I'll have to go buy different groceries for myself while my family eats gooey cheesey casserole?

And I'm sitting on my butt with a 3rd cup of coffee, typing this out, thinking how I cannot wait for my bicycle to come back from it's tune-up so I can hook up the trailer, load up the kids and go for rides around town. Even if all I do is ride to the post office and back, and don't actually do anything (like library or groceries or whatever) other than the riding, will that help? Will I have to resort to something like Valerie Bertinelli, or Wynona Judd?!??!!? I can't afford that...I'm not even sure BB will want me to join Weight Wat.chers...not because he doesn't want me to be healthy, but because of the fees associated with it...

I'm glad that Spring starts Friday and that I can soon be out in my gardens raking out leaves, cleaning out planting beds, turning over the dirt in my veggie plots, planting seeds, putting in plants, mowing, trimming, and chasing the kids around the grass as we play "Mother, May I?", and "Red Light, Green Light", and tag, and I want to go swimming...

And I want to eat a giant bowl of ice cream...with chocolate sauce and whipped cream, and not feel that twinge of "what the heck am I doing?"

And I don't want anyone to tell me how sorry they are, or how they know what I'm going through, or what diet plan I should try.

I just want to vent, and then wake up tomorrow, knowing that I'm hitting the weights longer, and running faster, and harder, and that when my bicycle gets picked up tomorrow night, that I'm going to ride all weekend, and take advantage of being outside while the weather is nice, because I know that if I wait until "another day", it'll be blizzarding, and I'll have to resort to running stairs and doing circuit training in my house. Again. Which isn't working.

So let me be cranky, and frustrated and angry and scared and freaked out a little bit...