The Struggle is Real

I have been overweight most all my life. I literally have to feel like I am starving and workout like a fiend to have any sort of measurable loss. A friend of mine told me that she read somewhere, that women our age need to workout one hour everyday just to maintain our current weight. Oh bother, not going to happen. My heart doctor told me that he doesn’t care what I weigh, he just wants me to exercise so that I will feel better. Sounds doable, right? So why don’t I do it?

Yesterday, a coworker offered to meet me three times a week in the early morning to be a workout buddy for me. I felt like a baby being spoon fed strained carrots as I shook my head no, no I won’t do it! I wake up at 6 am as it is, I’m not getting up earlier to do something I don’t want to do! Even though I am fully aware of the health benefits and I have experienced the after workout “high” in the past, at this current juncture in my life, I feel like I have dug in my heels and refuse to do anything I do not want to do!

I have a perfectly good rowing machine, that I actually enjoy using sitting motionless in my living room. My son brought it up from the basement in hopes of it being an encouragement for me. For a time, I was using it and working it hard. My son who is a die hard gamer once heard me rowing and said something to the effect of, “You sound like you’re improving. I may need to reconsider adding you to my post apocalyptic survival team. A good rower could come in handy.” It made me want to work harder. The idea that he may pick me to be on his team, gladdened my heart. Actually, both of my sons have always been very supportive of any effort I put forward in hopes of improving my health. They have never known their mother to be anything under 200 lbs. I believe the best I have been since giving birth is 220 lbs.

For decades, my driver’s license had been a lie. I had listed myself as being 200 lbs. This past year when I went for my new super-de-dooper ID, I listed my current weight. No, I’m not going to share that with you right now, I’m not that emotionally strong to tell the world what I weigh, but it’s not 200 lbs. My goal is to be anything under 200 lbs, 199.9 would make me very happy. According to the charts, a woman my age and height should weigh between 138 and 178. At 138, I would be near death. I would look like one of those women I want to yell, “Eat a sandwich!” to. A weight of 178 is reasonable, it’s possible, but the last time I was anywhere near that weight I was 20 years old, so unlikely.

Being a middle aged woman is no treat. Between the hot flashes and exhaustion, not to mention the fits of rage because my testosterone levels are rising, losing weight is the ultimate battle. Now, add to that the complexity of my genetics of being Polish and having been raised on a steady diet of sausage and potatoes, it’s not a pretty picture. My father’s father was so large, upon his death they had to remove part of his body to fit him into a casket. My father was a trim man in his youth, but throughout his middle aged years, he was a big guy. He slowly began to lose weight in his 70’s and 80’s, so there is a chance I may trim down before I pass, but being a woman, it’s a crap shoot.

Food is so very important to me, so much so that I have had a career that focuses on it. I have worked in the food service industry as a baker and in catering. For the past almost 20 years, I have worked in the natural grocery industry, with a stint running the bakery and juice bar inside a grocery store. My father’s mother had run the cafeteria at the Chicago Art Institute, so one may say that it’s in my blood to work with food, but my main influence was my mother. That woman was always cooking up a storm, but to the best of my memory, she never let me help. I do recall trying to make a cake in my teens, but me being me, I couldn’t just try something simple to start with. No, I had to try and make a French Chocolate Buttercream and I remember burning the chocolate and I took that as a sign to step away from the stove.

After my mother passed, I had to learn all on my own. I have what I refer to as my “Pillsbury Bible”. It’s a cookbook from the 70’s that goes from making a cup of coffee to Chicken Kiev, and everything in-between. At the age of 21, I couldn’t even cook an egg, but I managed to figure things out with the use of this “Bible” and the other books in my mother’s collection. She also had notes, very difficult to read notes because my mother had been born left handed and according to the Catholic church, that meant she was possessed by the devil and was forced to learn how to write right handed. Trying to decipher her chicken scratch was challenging enough, but then she would change her mind about something and there are added notes, just about everywhere.

I’ll never forget my first attempt at making her Potica recipe. This is a Polish dessert that is similar to a chocolate and walnut strudel, but it is made with a yeast dough. I have memories of my mother covering the kitchen table with a clean white bed sheet and stretching the dough with the backs of her hands until it covered most of the available table top. I followed her recipe to the best of my ability, but what I didn’t realize until much later, was that the dough recipe was meant for making 3 separate pastries and I was making 1. Using a half sheet pan, the dough was oozing over the sides of the pan like “The Blob” of horror movie fame. It was gigantic, but it tasted very good. I took a hunk of it to work and assured my coworkers of it’s excellence, no matter it’s appearance. Thankfully, they agreed and I hopefully received angelic praise from my mother.

To me, food is much more than mere sustenance. Food is history, family, memories, tradition. Nothing gives me more pleasure than to cook for my family and friends. I am in my absolute glory when I prepare a pot roast, the house filled with the aroma, the sun streaming in through the windows along with a gentle breeze that in return, carries the delightful fragrance of love throughout the neighborhood. In those moments, my mom is with me and proud of me to be continuing her work of sharing her love for her family by feeding them a good home cooked meal. Not one shred of my existence could feel that way about eating a salad with a low calorie dressing, not now, not ever. Food needs to stick to one’s ribs, and fill one’s belly. When I was little, I remember my mom asking to feel my belly after eating dinner. If it was engorged, she was happy and said that I was a good girl for eating a good meal.

So, how do I achieve that same satisfaction by preparing a light meal and working out? This is the puzzle I need to figure out. Portion control? I suppose I can learn how to not eat a second helping, but it is challenging because well, I am a good cook and it tastes soooo good! I want more please! Also, the truth of the matter is that I am hungry. I am hungry most of the time, even though I am not one to snack, I am hungry and therefore when I actually find the time to eat, I overdue it. I also eat too quickly, that excuse I have my mother to blame. We were told that we could go back outside to play after we ate all our food, so I would inhale it in order to get back to my friends. And yes, the portions were large, we did not have much in the way of financial riches while growing up, but we ate well and we were happy for it.

Why won’t I exercise? I know first hand how good I will feel afterwards, so why do I fight it so wholeheartedly? I think it’s because it feels like a punishment to me. Yes, eating small and exercising feels like punishment to me. How many thin people have I known that do neither and don’t have the weight issues I do. Yes, they may be 20 lbs overweight, but not the 50 plus that I am. Why? Why must I struggle and they don’t? What have I done so horrible in my life that I am put to this task and they are not? Genetics? Mental instability? Bad luck? The world may never know, but I am determined to figure out a way to reach a healthier weight in such a manner that I do not feel tortured or picked on. Then, I will write the ultimate cookbook and workout program and gain the much deserved praise and riches the world has to offer! Or not, but hopefully, I will look and feel better and not feel punished.