And while I knew at the time that I would probably NOT make sufficient use of the PROFESSIONAL photography session in my professional life as a yoga instructor-massage therapist-personal trainer, I DID IT ANYWAYS.
Why?
Because I could.
Because I wanted to.
Because I didn’t know when that opportunity might present itself again.
I vaguely resemble this smiling, fit American woman best seen in my About or Yoga pages. I cared about how I looked then a lot more than I do now, but a whole lot less than most, and not that far removed from where I am now. Which is to say, about twice a year when I have to go somewhere and look nice, meet new people and wear makeup and accessories from this decade.
I don’t quite recognize my body. Even my face. I often look BEYOND myself in the mirror and tend to keep moving forward.
It hasn’t felt like me (fit,strong, pain free) in a LONG time, and that creates a distance, a patience, a dis-interest that has led me to here.
I want and need help. With the many areas of pain, I need a doctor or team that is interested in at least exploring whether they are interconnected beyond the scope of bad ankle + 2 children in 40’s = tired, cranky, overweight American woman.
In the meantime, I am actively trying to lose weight. The old fashioned way with less calories in than calories out. The carefully observant/annoyingly obsessive way. Which is SOOOOOO not my jam. I have lost 20 pounds over the last two years doing it my casual, incremental way.
But this week, I signed up for the Mayo Clinic Diet for 3 months. Like I PAID for it. I have even visited the website, loaded the App, and am publicly admitting such an effort here. Yesterday was Day 1. I am also dabbling in The Blue Zones Challenge. I bought the book a month ago, and began LOGGING details concurrent with my Mayo plan. I took quizzes from QR codes (the funny square with the hidden data that links your phone to a freaking MIRACLE of SCIENCE); I literally have only understood how these snowflake STARS work in the last 6 months. (This is a raging display of commitment from ADHD-mixed type girl).
I altered my second coffee to contain no added sugar. Yesterday that was IM-possible - I tried, I failed, I carried on. Two more times. Just the way I LOVE it. Because how can one survive a torturous day without a reliable cup or two of COFFEE? I have spent approximately one MILLION dollars at Target and Kowalski’s and Oxendales preparing my fridge and countertop and cabinets for my no sugar-practically no carbs-practically no fat diet. Imagine explaining this to teenage me and her friends (and we were well read and well informed for the times) as we sat around the Lydons’ mammoth kitchen table eating chocolate-chocolate Snackwells and Diet Coke!
I bought four kinds of low fat cheese! I have spent the better part of my 7 year domestic partnership lambasting Derek every time he fails to notice the slightly altered label of anything deemed “low fat” or “no fat.” So I feel like I might owe him an apology, and that makes me think this “program” really should owe me some money or dignity because that costs A LOT.
I CHEATED so hard yesterday when I ate 6 Triscuits and 2 Laughing Cow triangles because I could not make it through the day (I had dinner at 4:30 PM for god’s sake) without some extra carbs and protein.
And I felt satisfied. With myself and, shockingly, with the snack.
I remember living in the Mediterranean, walking all the time, even with the bad feet, untreated mental illnesses, and complex grief I suffered at the time. I remember eating and drinking with sociable others - fresh fruits and vegetables, olives and cheeses and full fat milk, pastries with morning or afternoon coffee, colorful, alcoholic, anti-oxidant libations until late late late . Everywhere we went, we felt safe. All the colors and sounds were fresh, unabashed, young, old, mixed and moving.
I’d like to return to that space with my children, my partner, my friends.
I’d like to be smaller, stronger, and in lesser pain to explore and enjoy that environment, that bounty.
It IS a bounty.
What the body can hold,
what the world can offer,
what joy (and sorrow) can be shared.
Thank you, SomeOne, SomeThing Greater.
Thank You for these 46+ years, these 170+ pounds.
“Every line on your face tells a story someone else knows,” sings Lori McKenna.