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Yesterday Once More

Dec22

 

It’s not just the time of year for decorations and parties — it’s also the season for cleaning. I know I’m not alone in this, and I admit that I do a lot of “throw that in a box/drawer/closet” and then I forget about it. Every few… er… decades, I decide to go through everything and really see if it’s something that still needs to live here.

It usually ends up as a trip down Memory Lane as I sort through everything from old photos to old software. Do I really need Microsoft Student 2006? Nope. I have not just *one* but *two* vintage copies of Oregon Trail, if anyone’s interested. Win98, no less. There’s also any number of pens that I set aside to check and see if they still work, nail polish that probably coagulated during the second Bush administration, and bad poetry that I wrote in high school and afterward.

Yep, I put my weight loss on the top row. 😀

Some things I keep, and will always keep, like the 15-Puzzle that Elmer Deschauer gave me when I was a kid; he was an old man that lived in my neighborhood and many of the neighborhood kids would stop by and chat with him, and listen to his stories. (Times have changed — unfortunately. This is one thing I don’t think we’ll ever get back.) He would give me small gifts to take home, and I still have a few of them, especially the puzzle. My mother has a bud vase he gave me, too. I recently looked up the puzzle and it dates back to the 1930’s.

As I get older, the things I value change with me, and this has also been the case with my own journey toward health. I’ve had to sort through and discard old notions and ideas that didn’t serve me well. Things that stopped working, things I wanted to cling to but weren’t good for me, things that have become long outdated.

Things I thought I’d never discard have ended up in my emotional trash, and I didn’t even realize they were gone. I found a photo that must be at least 30 years old; my husband was dressed up as Santa and I was on his lap. Poor guy. Here I am in my mid-50’s, and I look better, feel better, and weigh substantially less than I did, back then.

This journey amazes me at moments like this — looking back, I left a great deal of myself behind, thinking that was expected of me as an adult — and here I am, decades later, rediscovering and embracing those things I thought were lost forever. My ability to write, my musical roots, camping, getting out and walking, adventuring.

Some things are worth discarding and never revisiting, again. (*ahem* VHS tapes!) And some things? Surprisingly, they never leave us; we just need to nurture them and let them bloom.

 

Feelin’ Stronger Every Day

Dec15

 

I’ve had a couple of big weekends lately. First, there was my costume pirate foray; FYI, my husband thinks for some insane reason that I will now develop a penchant for dressing up. He’d be wrong. BEYOND wrong, but that wasn’t the point of the post, anyway. Sorry, hubby! 😉

Last weekend, I dressed up again — this time in black concert dress. I am part of a volunteer orchestra, and we had our annual holiday concert last Sunday afternoon. Friends, I am not friendly with shapewear, but I tolerated it for a few hours. I’m not sure which I enjoyed, more: the concert itself, or getting home and being able to… ahem… become unrestricted in delightful ways.

No, really — I enjoyed the concert, more. As much as I looked forward to the performance, though, I was also mightily surprised. I was being recognized for working behind the scenes with the orchestra.

Dang straight!

Honestly, I prefer behind the scenes work. I don’t do it for recognition, although it’s nice to be appreciated. The words said on my behalf included a lot of things about me; that I play horn, that I contribute technical skills, that I am working on a book. All of these things are true. The one thing not mentioned — thank goodness — was my weight loss.

Although it’s one of the major accomplishments of my life, I am glad that it’s also not something I’m widely known for. When I lost 140 pounds a decade ago, that seemed to be what people knew me by best; I was that woman who lost all that weight. And unfortunately for me, I wasn’t really known by much else. Oh, sure, people knew me by my career choice, but other than that? I didn’t have much of an identity, outside of my work and my weight loss. That was the case on a personal level, too — while I wrote on occasion, I didn’t take it all that seriously. I was wife, mother, business owner, weight loss woman.

These expansions of my own personal goals are both a byproduct of having approached weight loss with a full body and mind discipline, and also a reason for my success. When all I had to call my own was my progress with weight loss, it was very easy to become obsessed with it, and frankly, depressed when I didn’t see results. My world was very closed off.

Now, my life is about so much more. I am constantly busy with things that bring me joy and improve my own quality of life. While it probably seems a bit ironic to be writing a weight loss blog about not wanting to be known for weight loss, that’s exactly what this is about. Sure, I’ve struggled with weight loss over recent months (and, by the way, I’m finally seeing some progress, so stay tuned!), but it’s not the emotional tsunami it was, before, because I have so many other things in my life for which I am truly grateful. Those things fulfill me, regardless of the number on the scale.

My definitions have changed, and my relationship with my body and mind along with them. Success and failure are matters of perspective and lessons learned, rather than devastating events. When you feel good about yourself, it’s much easier to put the occasional snafus in perspective.

A decade ago, I gave myself the gift of weight loss. This journey, I’ve given myself the gift of relearning how to live a full and happy life, which is infinitely more valuable.

 

Whole Lotta Woman

Dec7

 

This past weekend, my husband and I attended an annual Christmas party event that included dressing asking attendees to dress up as pirates. Those of you that know hubby also know that he’s got a penchant for costumes. I don’t.

He finds dressing up in costumes fun. He’s been a pirate a few times, now. Over the years, at various events, he’s been Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, a beer keg, and most often, a leprechaun. There are probably a few costumes I’m missing, and I’m sure he’ll fill me in after he reads my blog. 😉

Aaaargh!

As for me, though — I used to wear costumes on occasion. I once won a costume contest at work, dressed as Mae West, back when I had curves in the right places. I also used to be a member of a craft guild, and historical dress at events was encouraged. As someone who was in band for many years growing up, I also wore tuxes, black dresses, and a variety of band uniforms; believe me, uniform makers back in the 70’s and 80’s didn’t make good options for those of us with curves, and back then, I was a normal size.

Now, though? Hubby kept after me about dressing up as a pirate, and I finally made my own secret plans. I went as outrageous as possible, and told him flat out that if no one recognized me, I had accomplished my goals. As it was, there were a few folks who didn’t, so I considered it a success.

On the way to the party, hubby asked me why it is that I don’t like dressing up in costume. The simple answer is that when you spend much of your life as the largest person in any room, the last thing you want to do is attract attention, even if that reason is no longer for being large. Having that attention makes me uncomfortable.

Being very large brings with it both attention for being large, with (hopefully!) silent judgment, and a certain level of invisibility once people have dismissed you. I would prefer to exist somewhere in the middle: noticed without judgment, existing without disappearing afterward. I’d simply prefer not to draw attention; in my mind, attention and judgment still go hand in hand.

I’ll admit I had fun with the costume. (Note to husband: this does not mean I’ll do it again!)

On a related note, I’ve been attending this particular party for four years, now. The first year, I ambled in at nearly my full weight, and sat in a corner; I didn’t know anyone because we were new members. Year 2, I was in a travel wheelchair so we could move around without me imposing a limit. Year 3 — I had progressed to a cane and was able to get around on my own; I even danced a little bit. And Year 4, this past Saturday, I entered the doors with no cane, pulled my own weight, danced, and even wore low heels. Who knows what next year will bring?

 

Blinded Me With Science

Nov30

 

One of the cornerstones I have managed to drift away from over the past four years of my effort to improve my health is the simple idea of being a scientist on my own behalf.

I haven’t totally strayed from that concept; I know what has worked for my body in the past. I know how my body reacts to certain things. And I try to keep up with the latest information out there as it relates to my own particular set of circumstances.

For all the work I’ve done, I tend to get a bit defensive if someone suggests I should be doing something different, but when that advice came from a medical professional, I paid a bit more attention — and, albeit a bit begrudgingly, I decided that it wouldn’t hurt me to get back to embracing science. After all, the information I was getting was from someone I respect as a scientist, and he hasn’t led me wrong in the past.

He recommended a book, and I’ve been reading it. As a scientist on my own behalf, I’ve found myself agreeing with much of what’s been said. Enough so that I actually bought the second book from the same author, and I read a little bit each day, in hopes that this information might just be the key to breaking my weight loss plateau.

I’m gonna science the crap out of my body.

I’m not trying to tease you, but I’m not going to share the name of the book here; I may, in the future, if my own experiences in adapting my journey are successful.

I will share, however, some of the information that had me nodding in agreement; information that many experts have claimed as gospel, but has not worked for me, personally.

For instance — not all calories are the same. I have been convinced of this for a long time; calorie restriction, by itself, is not an effective method for weight loss, regardless of the common theme of “eat less, move more”. It’s just not that simple. What those calories consist of, and how my particular set of circumstances uses those calories, is of the utmost importance. This is universally true, and there are a number of authentic scientific studies that have backed up this idea, but they’re not the popular ones that support whatever the diet industry is trying to sell at the moment.

Another example: all diets eventually fail. Every diet out there will work — to a point — but many rely on basal metabolic rate (BMR) to stay the same, but it doesn’t. We’re evolved beings, but we’ve evolved for survival, and lowering food intake makes our bodies conserve resources when we’re hoping to expend them. Adding exercise makes no difference to this.

Related to this, large-scale studies have shown that the success rate of taking off weight and keeping it off, long-term, is very small; less than 1%, in fact. In 1995, no state had above a 20% obesity rate; in 2015, no state had below a 20% obesity rate. Times have changed, and in many ways, easy commercialism has added to our collective weight issues.

Knowing things like this might make anyone want to just trash their diet and jump off it for good. But not me. There are methods included that make sense, and it’s a small adaptation of what I’m currently doing, so I’m giving it a try. Even a 1% chance is enough of a chance for me to stick it out — because going back to where I was, yet again, simply is not an option I’m willing to consider.

That 1% chance is exactly why I’m writing this, today. All of us, in some way, can be exceptions to the rule; all of us are among the 1% of the population that has a certain characteristic, whether it’s a hobby, a career choice, a physical characteristic. For instance, 1-2% of the population has red hair, but just about all of us know someone with red hair. Short of coloring my hair (shhhhh!), I can’t change that percentage, but hobbies and careers are chosen, regardless of rarity, and physical characteristics, like weight, can be changed.

Being in the 1% — that’s my goal, and I will remain a scientist on my own behalf until that goal is achieved.

 

Thank You

Nov24

 

I’m thankful for a lot of things this season — and these years I’ve spent investing in my health.

I’m thankful for being able to walk. Not too long ago, I could only walk with a great deal of pain. If I needed to walk any distance, my husband pushed me in a portable wheelchair. Even when I got better, I walked with a cane. I’m thankful, now, for being able to walk without assistance, and for fair distances — I don’t walk marathons, but I can cope like a fairly normal person.

No, really. Thank you!

I’m thankful for feeling so much better than I used to feel. I don’t live my days in pain; not anymore. Nor do I live them in depression, feeling bad that I have not achieved the things I set out to do. I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I used to feel for myself, feeling fat and unloved, and yet powerless to change those feelings.

I’m thankful for being able to eat a Thanksgiving meal (or two, as the case may be, because Friday is Friendsgiving!) and knowing that I can, with confidence, return to where I was before eating large meals. I know now that what I do in the short term matters less than what I do in the long term — I can, on occasion, enjoy a meal as a treat. I may pay the consequences, but I know what they are before making the decision.

I’m thankful for my friends who have helped me over the numerous hurdles, even when I have resisted their advice. That includes my orthopedic surgeon. I’ve been studying information he’s given me and it makes a ton of sense. It’s never too late to adjust the journey. Sometimes you just have to take a different route than what you planned on, and it works out.

And finally, I’m thankful for the world that’s opened up to me since committing to change. My life is far different than it was when I started this journey, and it’s definitely more joyful and satisfying. Taking this journey has meant endless discovery; not only in figuring out who I am, now, but in becoming more me than I have been in a very long time. Being authentically me is the best gift I can ever give myself, and I am grateful to those of you who have been on this journey with me. Thanks for being there.

 

I Hope You Dance

Nov17

 

It’s no secret, by now, that my weight loss has been at a plateau for a good six months. And six months can seem like an eternity.

I know there are likely a certain number of my readers that aren’t interested in my blogs unless I’m talking specifically about having lost more weight; everyone loves a success story. We’re drawn to them like moths to light. It’s one of the reasons why I don’t publicly post photos of my progress; on the Internet, there are plenty who would steal progress photos to misrepresent a product or diet. There are even more who would take the opportunity to use a photo of an obese woman to scorn or mock.

(Don’t worry. When I feel I am at a point in my journey where it’s appropriate, I’ll post more than headshots.)

There’s also a certain number of folks who think that if you’re on a weight loss journey and your loss isn’t at a constant, you’re a failure. And frankly, while waltzing across a six-month plateau, I get the niggling feeling at times that I may not be able to progress past where I am at this moment.

Most of actual steps, not stunt steps.

Sure, that concerns me, but not enough to throw my hands up in the air and just say screw it and go back to my old habits. Every day is a choice, and choosing to willingly go backward is the wrong choice. Instead, I’m learning more about my body, with the determination to continue moving forward.

In my journey, weight loss is only part of the story, not the whole story. A journey toward better health must be comprehensive; sure, I’d love to look great in a dress, but more importantly, I want to feel good, move with confidence, improve my lifestyle, discover new capabilities, and live life to my fullest. It’s easy to let the scale be the only focus, at times; and while it’s important to include that as one of the indicators of moving in the right direction, it is, by far, not the most important.

This weekend, I’m on an annual writer’s retreat with a dear friend. (*waves to dear friend!*) The cabin we stay in every year is at the bottom of a hill, directly on the lake; the porch is on stilts over the water. Both of us have to carry our things down a long series of steps to get to the cabin.

The first year I came here, I really struggled with those steps. It took me forever to go up and down them. Imagine carrying a couple bags of concrete, and that’s what I felt like — without even carrying my things. Moving forward a couple years to last year, I was extremely proud of the progress I’d made in handling those steps.

And then there’s this year. Last week, I injured my knee, and it took the better part of a week for it to return to a normal enough state for me to feel confident enough to take the steps. My friend even offered (okay, insisted) that she carry my things down for me; she’s much more fit than I am. But I beat her to the cabin, and I decided I’d give the steps a try.

Mind you, because of variances in my weight at the moment, I’m roughly 15 pounds less in weight than I was this time last year.  (I’ve weighed less.) But I’ve been walking, and I really hadn’t realized how much of a difference that made until I took the steps. Down with a load; no problems. Up, towing an empty cooler on wheels (hey, yes, I cheated a bit, thanks to my hubby for the tip), no problems; just perhaps a 30 second catch-my-breath moment halfway up to the parking lot. Second trip down, no big deal. Trip back up with my friend to go to dinner later? All the way to the top with no stops, somewhat out of breath.

Last year, it took me the better part of an hour to fetch everything, including breaks to rest. I didn’t need to do that this time, and I also took fewer trips. I certainly wasn’t Rocky Balboa running the streets of Philly (I hope I have that movie reference right!), but my fitness level this year far exceeds even last year. And that matters — a lot.

I still harbor thoughts of taking myself out of things because of perceived discomfort or the possibility of not being able to do something, but I’m more of a risk taker these days. These may be small risks in the light of what normal people do on a daily basis, but the more I do them, the more they become my normal. It is, as they say in the diet world, a huge non-scale victory (NSV).

As a follow-up to last week, I’m happy to report that I’m moving forward with plans to increase my ability to walk. I’m breaking in a new brace that will hopefully extend my abilities while stabilizing my knee in the interim between now and surgery. While I’m not crazy about having to use another brace, since this is my third one, I’m willing to do what it takes to get me further to my goals.

I’m not gonna sit it out. I’m gonna dance.

 

Fighter

Nov9

 

Folks on Facebook are familiar with the term Throwback Thursday, where people post pics from their past. It’s usually meant in fun.

I had a Fallback Wednesday, and it wasn’t a fun one. Nor was it on Facebook.

It was in my own back yard, during my morning walk with Bonnie, my dog. We have a normal path we take before breakfast; her, so she can do her morning thing. Me, to put in a few steps before breakfast. We’re fully into fall weather, now; it was brisk out, first thing in the morning, with plenty of newly fallen leaves to kick through — which is what I inadvertently did.

Stunt leaves that may or may not look like leaves in my yard.

It wasn’t anything more than nudging a stick with my toe in passing, but that’s all it took to push my knee out of alignment. When that happens, I can’t straighten my knee and I can’t put weight on it. To complicate things further, I was wearing a new brace that had partially slid out of place (and might have contributed a bit). So there I was, standing on one leg like a ticked off flamingo, leash in hand with a dog ready to take on the rest of our walk, 50 feet from the door.

It might as well have been 50 miles at that moment.

I haven’t had this happen, lately, except for a couple little minor skirmishes. I had convinced myself that building muscle around my knees has helped, as well as losing close to 150 pounds. And they have; the number of incidents of my knee locking up like this has gone down considerably, and it had been many months since I’d dealt with even the hint of it, so this caught me completely off-guard. I managed to hobble into the house, but between aggravating it and not being able to straighten it for several hours, I’ve been dealing with a throwback in time of a kind that I’m certainly not happy about in the least.

I’ve been pretty happy with my progress, doing away with having to use a travel wheelchair, and then a cane, and lately, walking around 6500 steps a day. It took one tiny incident to send me backward to a time when I couldn’t hobble around my own house without some sort of mobility assistance. Add to this, my surgery date has been kicked back six months. Maybe my knee knows I’m going to evict it.

After considerable pain and feeling sorry for myself, I realized that this was my lot every single day just a couple of years ago — and it wasn’t so long ago that I was dependent on a cane just to get around the house, dealt with debilitating pain to the point that I had to take breaks to sit down just to get through washing dishes by hand, and had developed all sorts of ways to get by because of my knees.

Mind you, it’s on the mend, now. I still need to take it easy for a few more days, by the feel of things, but the difference between then and now is huge. I am both physically and mentally stronger than I was just a couple years ago. I laid down to put my knee up, after taking some heavy duty pain reliever, and then got mad for having to do it. I don’t want to be waylaid, when even a couple of years ago, having the excuse to put my feet up for a few days was a welcome thing. Now, it frustrates the hell out of me.

I suppose that’s a good thing, right? It’s a reality check to remember a time when every day brought me pain and difficulty. Now, it’s a hiccup, not a way of life. I just made the commitment last week to get a new brace to support my knee so I can increase my steps — and then this? Oh, nope! I’m not going to let this sideline me. I will continue to fight with everything I’ve got.

 

PS: Just to be clear, it’s not the fault of the brace, although having it move on me while I walked may have contributed. I have experience with braces, so understand the issues at hand.

 

Play By The Rules

Nov3

 

Over recent weeks, I’ve been dealing with one of the biggest challenges I’ve met since starting to lose weight. Not just for this time — for any time.

If you’ve been reading along, you know I was sent home from my orthopedic surgeon’s office with instructions to lose 20 to 25 pounds. That was roughly six weeks ago, and at that time, I managed to get them to pencil in a surgery date in December, with the agreement that I’d lose the weight. I was pretty angry after that appointment because I felt like I hadn’t been heard. On the advice of friends who are also medical professionals, I rescheduled the checkup to make sure I met with the actual surgeon. And that appointment was on Wednesday.

There’s bad news, and there’s good news — of a sort. First, the bad news: I was turned away yet again. I lost 16 pounds between the appointments but was sent home with the instructions to lose 20 to 25 more pounds. I fought my case; I showed my progress photos of 140 pounds lost, I lined out the previous four years of progress I’ve made, I pointed out that it’s quite likely at least 15 pounds of the weight I currently carry is excess skin.

I’d rather be a pirate and make my own rules.

But it didn’t make a difference: their goal, pure and simple, is to be below a BMI of 40. I’m hovering just above it. I have until February 2, now, to get below that mark. If I meet it by then, I’ll have surgery in early summer.

Just as an aside, I think BMI is a convenient construct of insurance companies, and I wouldn’t doubt it a bit if my insurance company has a hand in this; I’ve never been a fan of insurance companies dictating health care. Those decisions should be between my doctor and me. Even the creator of BMI stated that he thought it was too general a rule, but at the time, it was at least a consistent measure. And apparently, being over a BMI of 40 brings with it notable increases in health risk.

I understand that. With a few exceptions, the more weight we carry, the more health issues we end up with. I’m talking averages — not specific cases — but I totally disagree with the (insurance-driven?) notion that those risk factors suddenly drop off once we pass a magical number. No, risk factors are on a sliding scale, not a drop-off. While I am more than willing to embrace the idea that my risks were far greater when I was at my original weight, I don’t truly believe that the risk factors are all that different for me at my current BMI and the mere two points I am away from their magic number.

Nonetheless — my surgeon will not do a total knee replacement for me until I lose even more weight, no matter what evidence I was able to present. What stands between me and knee surgery is an illogical (and mathematically rather than biologically based) number devised by a mathematician in the 1830’s, before The Alamo fell. For all our technology, we cling to this outdated and unreliable system of measurement. Regardless, I’m stuck and my choices are to abide by it or keeping living with debilitating knee pain.

The good news? I was heard, at least. I was treated with kindness and respect. I was listened to. I was given options. Not all of them are viable or preferable, but if I want this particular surgeon to perform my knee surgery, I have to go by his requirements — and I do want that. He did talk with me about my biggest concern: that I am at an impasse with my weight and my ability to exercise, so asking me to lose more weight seems nearly insurmountable.

He made some recommendations that I am considering, and I was also fitted with (yet another) knee brace that may help me get a few more steps a day without as much pain, and therefore, burn a few more calories.

I have to fight for this. I refuse to do anything else than fight; giving up never got me anywhere. I suppose on some level, I’m angry because I felt I was ready and I was not prepared to hear otherwise, but what I have done to this point is not enough. Imagine that — losing close to 150 pounds isn’t good enough. Not for this.

For the first time, I’m being pushed to change when I stubbornly want to remain on my current path, and it’s a hard thing to internalize. To this point, the choice has been mine; but now, if I want to achieve what I believe is the next step in pushing my health forward, I have to play by someone else’s rules.

I’ll do what needs to be done. I don’t like being told no.

 

Stay Grounded

Oct27

 

Burnout. All of us have dealt with it in one way or another — and that’s where I find myself this week.

I’m one of those people that needs a certain amount of uninterrupted alone time to nurture and replenish myself. When my battery is running low, I’m at my most vulnerable. I’ve had a lot to deal with over the past few months, and I know that once I can withdraw a bit and plug my life batteries in for a recharge, I’ll be ready to face whatever challenges are next in my life.

That’s just how some of us are made. I know plenty of folks who thrive on being surrounded by other people and activity. I’m not one of them. I get to a point where I’m like an over-stimulated toddler who, like it or not, needs that nap badly. If I don’t have a certain amount of time for restoration, I run dangerously close to empty. It’s no fault of those around me or even circumstances. It just is.

It’s a lot easier to stay grounded when you’ve built a solid foundation.

Curiously enough, though, I’ve found that my abilities to stay in sync and not fray at the edges, and remain in control, have improved with time. It takes a lot more to deplete my mental and physical batteries, these days. When I’m exhausted and had enough, now, I don’t find myself as vulnerable and at risk of doing stupid things that undo the hard work I’ve put in.

In my past, these are the times when it would be remarkably easy to consider my diet just one more stress point and reward myself with food that makes me feel good in the moment, but loses that ability to comfort me the moment it lays like a brick in my stomach. Last weekend, I celebrated my birthday with family, for instance, but I completely forgot about the cupcakes a friend sent home with me until they were too stale to eat. I got back on course afterward, and I really didn’t stray as far off the dietary path as I might have; eating things I’m not used to tends to make me regret it soon afterward.

It’s a side-effect of undertaking this long journey that I didn’t expect or foresee; it’s not like I’m young and just diving into life’s experiences. No, even when I’m at burnout levels these days, I’m calmer about knowing what I need to do to push through. Hell, yes, I’m stressed, but I’ve managed to learn what behaviors only complicate stress even more.

It’s also about perspective and staying grounded. We were at a wine fest last week, and I realized after discussing it with my husband that one of the reasons I was disappointed in the festival itself was because I can get around better, these days, and had been looking forward to doing more while I was there — but the festival is going through a downtime and there wasn’t as much to wander around and do. I realized this most when we went to a different winery and I thoroughly enjoyed taking a tour. It was a livelier place to be. I don’t regret for a second being there with my family — but what was good enough, before, now no longer is.

By the way, those two bags of Cheetos from a couple weeks ago are still sitting on the counter in the kitchen. While my eating hasn’t been perfect this last week or so, I’ve mitigated the desire to simply check out and do whatever I want. It’s a little bit like growing up and behaving like an adult, which isn’t always my forte. I may not be at my absolute strongest, right now, but I also know how to keep myself in line until I’m able to plug myself in and build myself back up.

On that note, I’ll be visiting with my knee surgeon this coming Wednesday and I expect to solidify a surgery date in December. I’ve been in caregiver mode for a while, now, but the next challenge will be a complete change — and the beginning of the next stage of learning how to live in this new life of mine.

 

October

Oct19

 

If you’ve been reading this blog the past few weeks, you know a few things: that I have an important appointment coming up in a matter of roughly 11 days, that I want to lose a certain amount of weight before that date, and that I have yet to get back to my low weight.

Here’s what you don’t know that’s throwing a curve ball into all of this: although I’ve lost some of the weight I want to lose, my weight has been more stubborn than a mule. It keeps dancing around one set point no matter what I try to do to break it. Normally, I wouldn’t worry too much about it, because I know that it’s likely something hormonal that’s holding me back, and as long as I keep doing what I’m doing, it’ll eventually solve itself.

That’s all well and good when I don’t have a deadline, and I do have a deadline of sorts. Although I know that seeing my knee surgeon will likely go in my favor regardless of a number on the scale, I still have a point to prove to both his physician’s assistant, and to myself.

Red, white, and blush — definitely good therapy.

I also have my annual wine fest and birthday — this weekend. This is one of those rare times that I usually incorporate relaxed eating into my plan so I can fully enjoy myself, knowing that the consequence is that I’ll gain some weight I’ll have to re-lose.

I honestly don’t know what to do this time. I do plan to watch what I eat a bit closer than I would on a normal year, but I admit that I fear the fallout, and that although I have a little more than a week to take off what I gain, my weight has been abnormally stubborn lately. It’s one of those times that I really don’t know what decisions I’ll make until that moment arrives.

I do know this, though: I have plenty of non-scale victories (NSVs) ahead of me this weekend. Last year, I still walked with my cane, and while I was able to get around the grounds of the wine festival, it was still a challenge. This year, my cane won’t be making the trip with me. I can walk easily just about anywhere I need to go, despite the terrain, and I think I may even be able to take a walking tour or two this time. The distance between areas isn’t the issue it once was. I can also look at their shaky plastic folding chairs that they use for their dining tables and feel just a bit more confident that I’m not going to cause damage.

We’ve reserved dinner in a restaurant that’s built in an old wine cellar; it’s well over 100 years old, and while some things have obviously been modernized, it’s still something that I wasn’t willing to take on a year ago. Stairs can still be quite daunting for me, and will be until after both knees are replaced, because my knees don’t bend to the degree necessary to take on stair treads that might be higher than normal.

This is a matter of short-term rewards versus long-term goals, so I admit I’m a bit anxious about navigating all of it. This is life, though; had I stayed in the same place I was over four years ago, not a single thing I’ve mentioned in this post would be possible — not walking the grounds, taking tours, or even considering the possibility of knee surgery, so it pays to ground myself and remember that.