When my daughter was little, we would take weekly trips to the library where she would pick out 7 books and I would pick out 7 recipe books. I would pour over those, make copies and stick them in a binder. Cook new stuff. That was 20 years ago. Maybe that's when the food affair really started. Because that IS when the weight problem began. It contributed to the demise of my first marriage. I was a stay at home mom who worked part-time at the mall and I was happy. I called it happy weight. The ex didn't see it that way (jerk). Over the next 7 years, I lost some of the weight, and then I met the man of my dreams who loved me for me and the rest is history. Sort of. We've been married 12 years this year and over those years, I gained a lot of weight. I never in my life weighed as much as I did. I knew I needed to do something. I didn't feel healthy. I just couldn't get started.
My recent annual physical results were my wake up call. "Pre-diabetic". That was it for me. The weekend following I joined Weight Watchers with my BFF and began my journey. Down 11 pounds so far, I am so proud of myself. I feel better physically and mentally. I use my WW app to track everything I put in my mouth. I am exercising several times a week (setting new goals for myself each week). The minute my feet hit the ground, I have my Fitbit on. I am constantly checking my WW and Fitbit apps.
I almost feel a bit obsessed with my journey. Sometimes it feels like it's all I can talk about.
The bottom line is that I love food. The question becomes how can I still love it and have it NOT be so important to me.
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