Exercising the ability to change.

It's another glorious summer day which also unfortunately happens to be my first day back to class for the Fall semester. I say unfortunately because the starting of school signifies the end of my summer as I know it. It's hard to believe that the official summer season is nearing it's final days and soon I'll be obsessing over things like carved pumpkins, my beloved Martha Stewart wooden witch decoration that Josh and I collaborated on last year and other Halloween accouterments. I'm afraid that in the blink of an eye the memories of sun, sand and surf will be far behind me and I will be busting out the electric blanket to take the chill off of the cool autumn nights. Damn, change is difficult.

This summer was by far the best I have had in years. This could be for the fact that I was blissfully unemployed, meaning I wasn't spending countless mornings and evenings trapped on a Bieber bus that may or may not have functioning air conditioning and may or may not get stuck in 4 hour long back ups on 78 while one relentless passenger talks loudly in another language on their cell phone for the entire ride home. For the first time in a looooong time, instead of contemplating mass murder on public transit, I was happy, relaxed and truly able to enjoy summer for all it had to offer. To have that experience as an adult in her late 30's was priceless.

However, it's back to reality as of 6 PM this evening when I begin my Educational Philosophy and Ethics class. Before I know it, I'll be buried in writing papers and reading chapter upon chapter in multiple text books and working on all that other school related mumbo jumbo that isn't nearly as much fun as hot days at the beach or even planning the wedding.

Basically I need to change my mind set, buck up and get back to reality. It's time to get serious, once again. On multiple levels.....

This summer, although perhaps ranking as one of the most fun I've experienced in adulthood, was also quite once of the most indulgent, which if I wasn't trying to whittle my ass down to a smaller size might not be so bad but since I am, is rather troubling. Even before the official onset of summer, right after Cinco de Mayo, I started this blog in hopes that it would force me to own up to my fatness and get my health back on track. Weighing in at 224 lbs this morning proves that I most definitely lost sight of what I was supposed to do and have been stuck in denial mode for far too long. We are talking about losing sight in Stevie Wonder type proportions here. 

As I said, change is difficult, especially for me who will do anything in her power to avoid it - but in the past year I realize I have changed more things in my life than I ever thought I ever would over the course of 12 months. That must stand for something, right? Since last August I have gone through the following major life changing events:

• Moved in with Josh
  
• Got engaged
  
• Lost my job
  
• Decided on a new career path
  
• Applied to school
  
• Got accepted to the grad program at Cedar Crest
  
• Started taking classes
  
• Began planning a wedding
  

I should probably include 'attempted to begin a lifestyle change' but after nearly 4 months and only a total of 8 lbs lost as of today, it doesn't seem fair to add it to the list. In 4 months I haven't been able to bust past even a 10 lb loss. That is pathetic. 

I have to ask myself - Just what the fuck happened here?

Looking at that list proves that I AM capable of change. It's not completely out of my vocabulary, but when it comes to weight loss, the ability to change goes inexplicably MIA.

Obviously I'm more than a little angry, not to mentioned embarrassed at myself. Apparently I am excellent at talking the talk but suck shit at walking the walk.  I say I'm angry at myself (which I am) but I've been pissed at myself before and still haven't done much to change the behavior. I'm at a loss as to exactly what it will take to make me wake up and smell the obesity?

Maybe it's hard because I know Josh accepts me for the way I am. He loves me no matter what and I love him for that. There is a small part of me that thinks I should be able to accept myself this way too - except at age 37 I feel more like I'm 67 and therein lies the problem. If I was fat and felt fabulous, that would be one thing. But I can't lie and say I do when I absolutely do not. My knees and feet hurt most of the time and I know that if I let it go, it'll just get worse.  

The thought of me hobbling down the aisle next year is not one I want to entertain so I realize that although exercise and I are currently not the best of friends, I need to do do all I can in the next months to make sure I work on building that relationship, even if it's awkward and uncomfortable. As the days get colder, I know I will feel less like doing it, so I need to take advantage of getting outside now and being one with Mother Nature. Crap.

The ironic thing is that when I'm at the beach, I'm active as hell - bike riding, swimming, kayaking, walking. It's as if a athletic alien comes and takes over my body and makes me think I actually love exercise. Granted I indulge in foods that may not be so diet friendly but at least I am burning calories more so than when I am back home. Why can't my motivation be the same when I am here?

Yesterday I took a nice long bike ride - basically because Josh practically pushed me out the door and made me feel like if I didn't get on that bike that I paid $400.00 for and wanted so badly I'd be the world's biggest lazy ass. I'm glad he pushed me because once I got out there I actually had fun. It's the motivation part that gets me every time  and it's the thing I feel I need to work on the most. Motivation, like change, is something I view as a challenge. They seem to go hand and hand in this battle of the bulge. You can't have one without the other.

I'm going to try giving both a go and see what I can accomplish.